The Bad, the Ugly, and the Dixons
by Noxid Anamchara
Summary: The life of the Dixon brothers before the world went to shit. The bad, the ugly, and sometimes, maybe even the good. Nobody ever said we got to choose our family.
1. Trick

**Nox: **If you're new here, welcome. What started as an idea, has turned into something _beautifully broken_. The Brothers have become a life unto each other, and I write them as I see them. The first few chapters are a little rough, unrefined. But I promise you. If you continue on this journey with me, you won't regret it. Because what once started out as just Daryl's story, has also become Merle's. And they are here to share it with you. Through their pain, their suffering, and their hope.

**Disclaimer**: Dixons belong to Kirkman and AMC.

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Trick

Daryl knew the day he fell, and skinned both his knee and his hands, and Merle had grabbed him by the back of his shirt and hauled him up, patting him on the back gently, clearing his throat that he would _never_ stop loving his brother.

But that didn't mean he didn't _hate _his brother either.

Merle was like the fire they burned at night to keep warm, when nobody wanted to clean out the ashes from the old furnace. They'd all have to gather round real close, but if you weren't careful, you'd get burned by a stray spark, or the flames would suddenly flare up and scorch you.

Merle was the dog everybody knew lived at the end of the road, broken and foamin' at the mouth. None a them had the heart to put it outta its misery coz it was a miserable old thing, but nobody went _near_ it neither. You weren't sure if you was gonna git bit, or if it'd actually let you pet it.

Daryl was never sure of what he was gonna get from Merle on any given day. Some days he would give an arm and a leg just to spend another moment with his brother, those days when he'd take him huntin' and swimmin', teachin' how to do brother shit. And other days he couldn't get far enough away from him.

But he learned to live with that. Learned to keep his mouth shut and his head down.

Following in the shadow of Merle, whether he liked what that meant or not. He did what Merle wanted. No questions asked. He did what Merle _didn't _want him to. No questions asked. And when Merle wanted somethin', he got it. _No questions asked._

But then, Merle would drive him somewhere special; treat him like a real kid brother. Merle would take him under his arm and squeeze him tight, giving him a noogie or a wet-willy, laughing high, and child-like. Sure Daryl didn't like it. But there was something special about those moments that made him _feel _like just a brother. A brother who cared, who loved him.

And then there were the times when his Ma or his Pa would come round, and Merle would do right by him, or when Merle wasn't there and Daryl would be left to the wolves.

Merle was different when he cared. And Daryl found that Merle cared a whole lot differently than any other person he had seen. And maybe he didn't have a lot of people to compare too, but that didn't mean nothin'. Sometimes, when Merle was carin', you had to look real hard, through all that jumble and tangle and mess a bullshit that made Merle, _Merle_.

It took Daryl a long time to figure that out.

Love and hate were a tricky thing, he figured. You couldn't have one without the other. He couldn't love Merle unless he hated him. And he sure as hell knew that he didn't hate Merle unless he loved him.

That was the trick. How do you separate'em?

How do you keep one from becomin' the other?

How did he _love_ Merle without hatin'em?

* * *

**A/N**: I have no illusions that Merle has treated Daryl with any kind of good. In fact, I think the worst of him. _But,_ that doesn't mean I don't have the absolute biggest, most profound _hope_ that somewhere, far away, Merle really does and has cared for Daryl for all of his worthless, piece of shit life.

And I think that's the beauty of Merle. That he knows his life is worth less than shit, and all he's got is Daryl. And his biggest mistakes have always been to drag Daryl down, deep into the pit of his darkness, but that's all he knows how to do. That's the only way he can love.

And love, it comes in all forms.


	2. Blue

**Nox**: A moment of Dixon rivalry.

**Disclaimer**: The Dixons belong to Kirkman and AMC.

* * *

Blue

The sun was shinin'. He remembered that. And it was hot. Coz it was always hot in Georgia. Cept when the winter months came round. Then it was just cool. Maybe it got cold. Maybe a few days it snowed. But for those days when it did get cold, it was like the world froze over.

But he remembered that the sun was shining, and it was hot coz _she _was there.

Her sun-gold hair shinin' in the sunlight. Her long pale arms spread out. Her pale blue dress kicked around her long, pale legs. She was spinnin'.

Not twirlin'. Spinnin'.

He remembered that too, coz she _told _him she was spinnin'. Girls twirled to be _pretty_. She spun to dislodge the thoughts runnin' through her head. He didn't know what dislodge had meant, but he was pretty sure she was tryin' to get rid of the jumble runnin' through her head.

He could think of a whole lot of things he wanted to get rid of from _his _head.

She was spinnin' now, trying to _dislodge_ somethin'.

Her name was Tessa.

She was sixteen years old and she was taller than him. He was only fourteen, and he still had some growin' to do. But he hated that. Hated that she was still taller than him.

That didn't mean he didn't _not _like her though.

He _liked_ her sun-gold hair. He _liked_ her pale arms and legs. He _liked_ the way her dress kicked up when she spun. He _liked_ the way her hazel eyes brightened when she smiled. And he _liked _it when she talked to him, with that sweet, low voice of hers.

And Merle, he liked her too.

Merle _always _liked what he liked.

But Merle wasn't here this time, and he could finally talk to her _alone_. But he didn't know how to. Didn't know how to talk to a girl that he thought somethin' good of. So he just stood there and watched.

Watched her spin.

When she finally stopped, she collapsed on the ground, the blue dress ridin' high on her thighs. He felt his cheeks get hot, blood runnin' to places that he shouldn't have been thinkin' bout.

He turned away, eyes takin' in the forest around him, a mountain brook babblin' nearby. He couldn't, _didn't _want to look at her. Somethin' didn't feel right about it.

And then, his eyes found a pair lookin' back at him.

Merle's. Piercing him between the trees. Like a snake, hoverin' in the grass, waitin' to strike.

And _Merle_.

Daryl loved his brother. Would do anything for his brother. Would probably _die_ for his brother.

But he _hated_ his brother just as much.

And Merle knew that.

And Merle knew that Daryl liked Tessa, could see it the moment they had both come walkin' down the dirt road and had come across her path, Daryl stutterin' up a storm. Merle'd called him a chicken shit the minute she was out of ear-shot.

Now, Merle stepped from the cover of the trees, and approached Tessa. Daryl heard Merle laugh, confident and cocky. His body language was lazy, but his smile.

Daryl knew what that smile suggested.

Merle's hand stretched out in greeting. He leaned forward, reachin' down to trace the line of her knee, and follow the curve of her inner thigh, pushing up her blue dress.

And Tessa, she didn't care. She just let him go right on doin' what he was doing. Her gaze never once leavin' the sky.

Merle looked up, catching Daryl's gaze, holdin' it while his fingers continued their path.

And he smirked.

* * *

**A/N: **Perhaps you liked it, perhaps you didn't. That's the beauty of interpretation. I have this thing that girls and the Dixons, never went well. And we all know that Daryl never got any, ever. So, take this how you will.

_Thank you for being here._


	3. Empty

**EM**: Thanks to **letmefallasleep** for being the very best supporter of this story, _thus far_. You really make me burst with joy. I don't know what makes you like this so much, but I won't complain. I'll just keep writing. Here's another day in the Dixon's.

**Disclaimer**: Daryl and Merle Dixon belong to Robert Kirkman and AMC.

* * *

Empty

It was just a day.

The sun was shining, the game was plenty and good and he was free to do as he pleased.

No responsibilities today. Work was slow, so the boss had told him not to bother coming in. Had pissed him off for a while, but he'd brushed it off. Not like he couldn't find food, if he needed it. Not like he didn't _already_ take a piss in the woods when he wanted to. Takin' a shit would just require a little more _work_. And he didn't need no heat, coz he had wood for fire.

Daddy…he let the emotions drift over him, and then away. Daddy was _gone_. Sometimes, the memory hit him fresh, like it was yesterday. Sometimes he couldn't even remember that the old coot was never comin' back.

And _Merle_.

Merle was away. Gone for the _Marines_. Daryl still couldn't believe he'd enlisted. It'd been three months now. Five months since their Daddy had died and three since Merle had just up and left for the Marines. He suspected that Merle wouldn't last long. Merle didn't take shit from _nobody_.

Didn't mean he didn't _enjoy_ the time he had to himself. Nobody to rag on him. Nobody to tell him what to do, when to do it, or how to do it. He got to eat when he wanted, to sleep where he wanted, to piss alone, and to think in peace.

It was fucking _quiet_. God damn was it quiet and you couldn't take that away, couldn't give him all the money in the world to trade it away.

But…

But there was still something _there_, itching at him. He could feel it at his chest. He couldn't say what it was.

Looking around at the woods surrounding him, the mountains rising up to the west, the sounds eating at him, he wanted to place it. And then he knew. He _knew _what that feeling was suddenly. It hit him like one of his daddy's unexpected punches to the back, right across his shoulder blade.

Merle had _left_ him.

Just up and left, without even letting him know what he was gonna do, or that he had been planning it. One minute his brother's there, the next he ain't.

And it was that emptiness, the emptiness of no Merle at his side; yelling at him, slapping him, berating him, making fun of him or correcting him that left an ache his chest bigger than he wanted to admit.

And that wasn't _normal._

Daryl sighed and hitched the crossbow, _Merle's _crossbow, higher over his shoulder. He couldn't even go a day without _not _using something of Merle's. A reminder that his brother was still there. A reminder that he wasn't _alone_. He sucked in a breath, the crisp fall air refreshing. The leaves crackled beneath his feet and he mentally noted that he was in for a challenge this hunt. A challenge he gratefully, willingly accepted.

_Goddammit, you clodding idiot! What you got, two left feet?  
_

Daryl smirked as his brother's voice reverberated in his head. Even now he couldn't seem to _not _hear his voice.

_Don't scare off the game, baby brother! _Someone's_ gotta feed us. _

And Daryl wondered when Merle would be back.

* * *

**Reviews are a sign of your kindness.**

**A/N: **Not much, but a little of something. Daryl without Merle _or_ Daddy. I'm trying to take it slow. Cuz it's just drabbles. Moments. A mere flash of a Dixon past.

Thanks for being in my Dead world.


	4. Jaybird

**EM: **Another day with Daryl. Thanks for the reviews _again_. You guys are _awesome_.

**Disclaimer**: Daryl and Merle Dixon belong to Robert Kirkman and AMC.

* * *

Jaybird

He could feel his daddy's rage, from across the room. And he wasn't even _doing _anything. He was just sitting there, by the shoddy fireplace, whittling a piece of wood.

He was _trying_ to make a jaybird, with its wings spread. But he couldn't seem to get the wings just _right_. Something about his daddy's fierce gaze, just _staring_ at him, kept his hands unsteady and those wings off-kilter.

But dammit if he didn't want to get those wings to fly. The bird was beautiful, if he was to say himself. The wood was a deep cherry color, with streaks of gold-brown flowing through it. He'd nicked it off a neighbor's store-front, the one that sold all those fancy, fake carvings that shined with lacquer and money.

He was making something that was actually worth more than just _money_.

But his daddy was making it hard to do. Though he'd never say that out loud. He didn't want no trouble.

And then daddy's chair groaned against the hardwood floor as he rose to his feet, and Daryl's hand slipped, the blade jerking across his finger.

He sat still. Didn't move a _fucking_ muscle. Even as the pain of the wound on his finger made him grit his teeth. He just watched the blood form around the cut, and when it was just _too much_, it fell to the floor.

_Drip, drip, drip._

He could feel it pooling in his hand, coating the bird.

And his daddy's heavy footfalls came nearer, and he instinctively gripped the bird tighter. He clenched his teeth, as blood came heavier from the wound and pained flared across his finger.

Those black boots, worn and faded, came into his view. And he waited with bated breath.

"What the fuck are ya waitin' fur boy?" He tipped his head up, just a little. He didn't meet his daddy's gaze, but looked at a hole in his shirt near his left shoulder.

"Clean that shit up." He watched as his daddy's boot toed the wood shavings and blood at his feet, his lungs burning with the need to breath. But he didn't fucking _dare_ move.

Daddy's boots slowly moved away then.

And not _once_ did he mention the blood or the wound on his finger. Daryl looked down at the carving in his hand.

The jaybird was coated in red. _His_ blood staining the once beautiful piece. It was worthless now. Not when it was coated in _his _filth.

And he could see that his grip had broken the wing, further damaging any work he could have salvaged from it.

He let it fall from his hand, his blood still falling freely, tumbling to the ground with it.

Maybe the bird wasn't _meant_ to fly.

* * *

**Reviews are a sign of your kindness. **

**A/N: **I can't guarantee that I will always update like I've been. This is a first for me, updating on a day-to-day basis. But Daryl's past speaks to me, so I'll work with it. I'm gonna try to work on a Holiday one, before Christmas. Be on the lookout.

Thanks for being here. In this Dead world of mine.


	5. Merle

**EM:** Thanks for coming back, reviewing, favoriting and being the best!

**Disclaimer**: Daryl and Merle Dixon belong to Robert Kirkman and AMC.

**Warning**: **Rated M** for Child Abuse

* * *

Merle

"Meerr." He glanced up, hoping not to catch the attention of his daddy, or his mama.

"Merrr," the little voice tried again.

"Shut it," he whispered back. His baby brother sat on the floor at his feet, playing with a makeshift teething ring that he had made just last week.

Daryl had started fussing and chewing on things nonstop and he couldn't fucking take it anymore. All that saliva just gettin' _everywhere_.

Neither could their daddy. And daddy was the one he had to worry about.

Shit if mama was gonna do anything about it. So it was up to Merle to do somethin' bout it. He'd never been that good with his hands, but he could manage somethin'. Not as if he was gonna get his daddy to give him any money to get anything.

Not for the _little cockroach._

Since the day their mama had told him bout Daryl, daddy hadn't given one lick of concern for him. Merle never thought he would have either but…

"Mer." Daryl tugged on his pants, eyes wide as he looked up at him. He gripped that ring tight in the other hand, saliva glistening around his mouth and on the ring.

But the moment he first laid eyes on his baby brother, wrinkly little body, vulnerable to the world, _pathetic_ voice just crying out for whoever would take him, he hadn't been able to _stop_ thinking about him.

He was a _big _brother now. He had someone to look up to him. Someone who would look at him like he was calling the fucking shots. Like he was the only person that they would ever need in life.

At least, a part of him seemed to wish that's how it would be. The other part wished he didn't have the little dead weight to bother with.

"Merrr." He watched as his daddy's attention started to take in him and Daryl. Something he really didn't need.

"Shut it up." Mama didn't say nothin' to this. But Merle wanted to knock his daddy's teeth in, a feeling he was beginning to understand came round Daryl.

Sometimes he was okay with it. Some days, he wanted to knock his _own _teeth out. And others, he'd just wish Daryl had never been _born_.

"Mer." Daryl tugged at his leg again, chewing on that ring. He tried to pull himself up onto his legs, short tiny things.

"Git him outta here!" His mama's voice tore right through him, and his baby brother's face started to pinch up, the tears welling up in his eyes.

_Fuck_.

He was gonna fucking cry now. He fucking _hated _it when Daryl cried. He didn't know what the fuck he was supposed to do to make it stop. But a little whimper started up and he knew it was just gonna get worse.

Usually his mama picked him up and that was that. Daryl would just quit that shit. But it seemed that today, mama wasn't having none of that shit.

"Git the _fuck _out!" And he saw black, and pain shot through his head, as daddy whacked him across the head. He stumbled, hands blindly searching for Daryl. When he felt soft flesh he grabbed up his baby brother with one arm and tore outta that house before his daddy had another shot at him.

He was never a good runner.

Daryl bounced along his chest, the ring still clutched in his hand, face blotchy.

"Mer," he garbled out.

Daryl hadn't said much of anything, and Merle didn't know when babies started talking and shit. But he kept on saying that damn word. Mer. He didn't know what the hell he was trying to say but it had gotten them into this trouble.

When he was clear of the windows and felt safe enough in the shadows of the trees, he stopped, breathing heavy.

Damn was his baby brother _heavy_. Damn did his head hurt.

He sank to the ground, back to the tree, and sat Daryl between his legs. Slobbin' and chewing.

He didn't want this shit. He was just a kid himself. His daddy and mama were a pair of good-for-shit, breeding parasites.

But a pair of good-for-shit, breeding parasites who were bigger and stronger.

_Not for long_.

"Mer."

Daryl toddled through the underbrush, hands grasping for purchase on anything he could reach.

"It's you and me, baby brother."

Daryl looked back, lost his balance and fell on his ass. His blue eyes searched out Merle, and when he found him, his hand stretched out for him.

"Merle."

* * *

**Reviews are a sign of your kindness.**

**A/N: **So Merle's a little _nice_. But I figure he's young, and still _becoming_ the Merle we know today. And I have no idea just what ages they are, and how far apart. Roughly 10 years maybe. It's so freakin weird, because I just watched the episode "Tell it to the Frogs" and Daryl is so _emotional_ over losing Merle. Just breaks my damn heart. And it pisses me off that they all just _left_ him up there, without even a second thought.

Still plan on having that Holiday one.

Thanks for being here in my Dead world.


	6. Us

**Nox: **You guys accepted Merle so _beautifully_. You honestly have no idea how much it made me wanna cry. I mean, when I started this thing, I never thought I'd have much of anybody here, taking this road with me. But here you all are. And I'm so stunned. My words of thanks are so pathetic compared to how I really feel about you all. But _thank you_ all the same. My Holiday with the Dixons. And _Happy Holidays_ to all of _you_, the most wonderful people in the world.

**Disclaimer**: Daryl and Merle Dixon belong to Robert Kirkman and AMC.

* * *

Us

Memaw was over.

In the kitchen, cooking up her _special _dinner.

And he knew better than to go into the kitchen when Memaw was over. In some ways, she was _worse_ than daddy. Worse than daddy and mama put together.

She'd be humming an' cooking, coz that's what she did when she was over, and then next she'd wallop you over the head with whatever she had in reach.

For no reason you could find.

An' you had to watch out for that spittin' tongue a hers. She'd make you feel like you had nothing to live for. Like you'd been born just for hatin'.

"_A mistake." _

Memaw never cared for nobody but their daddy.

"_You's a right damn mistake boy." _She was mean, for no reason but because.

And he hated lookin' at her. She only had so many teeth left an' she smelled worse than the rot heap they had in the back where he had to throw all the old food.

Merle was home today too. Not that he had a choice.

When Memaw was over, you didn't do nothin' without her sayin'.

So he sat there on the floor by the fire, do nothing, waitin' for his chance to git. They'd had a little snowfall and he wanted to see what all that white did to the world outside.

And Merle sat there too, face twisted up. Daryl could feel the anger just comin' off a him. He didn't sit too close to his big brother.

Even if he wanted too.

Memaw was hummin' now, and Merle was scowling and daddy was sittin'. He didn't know where mama was. When Memaw came over, mama disappeared. Just like he wanted to.

"Merle!" Daryl watched as his brother's face pinched, a snarl about to work its way out. Daddy musta seen it too.

"I hear anythin' come outta that good-for-shit mouth a yers boy, an' you'll get a belt." Daryl turned away slowly. When daddy said the belt, he meant one a his conductor belts, from the old beater out front. Strips of copper wire, wrapped in rubber that had seen better days. The caps on the end dug painfully into just the right spots.

Daryl wanted to get out of that house _right then_.

He'd seen Merle get too many a those belts. He'd seen the marks on his big brother's back.

That was a pain he felt through his brother and didn't want to know hisself.

He watched as Merle tempted his daddy, takin' his time, giving him that _look_. Merle loved to test their daddy.

"You git in here you worthless little-"

"Shut up!" Daryl couldn't believe what he just heard. Merle _never _talked that way to Memaw coz he knew better. _Everybody_ knew better. He watched as daddy rose to his feet, and clomped over to Merle in his heavy black boots.

"You better take care a that son," Memaw said from kitchen, voice low and dangerous. And Daryl knew that Memaw wasn't talking to Merle.

He watched daddy's big back, his stomach heavy. And when he looked up, he saw Merle lookin' right at him. Those same blue eyes shifting just barely to the left.

Daryl looked. And turned back to his big brother. Merle's face twisted up in anger.

"Fuck you!" He screamed, seemingly in daddy's face. But Daryl knew it was pointed at him. He flinched and fled, darting for the back door that no one was watching _anymore. _

He didn't have no shoes on, but his holey socks. The cold of the snow went straight to his feet, sending shivers up his spine. But he ran anyway, through the back, over the wheelbarrow, around the pile of junk and into the safety of the trees.

And he barreled straight into mama's legs.

"What the fuck?" He fell onto his butt, and looked up, fear coming on fast. She had a smoke in one hand, and she wasn't wearing much. A small red sweater and gray pants. He didn't know how she stayed warm in those tight, thin things. She wasn't wearing nothing but her raggedy slippers either.

She took a drag on her cigarette and looked him up and down, then back at the house. She leaned down till he could look her in the eyes, the same blue as his.

"Can't stand the ol' bitch either, huh?" And she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him up, didn't let go. She pulled him through the trees, and the soft snow, and it didn't even _matter_ anymore that he wasn't wearing no shoes.

Coz his mama still had his hand in hers. It was small, and her grip was so soft. But he wasn't letting go of that _hand. _

They traipsed through the cold until she found what she was looking for, the smoke of her cigarette drifting around her like an extension of her body, mingling with her breath.

He'd seen this neck of the woods before, been here with his big brother. Merle would come here for some quiet, and to get away from daddy when could. Sometimes he brought Daryl along, when he had too and when he felt like it.

Maybe, that was because it was mama's?

"See that tree?" She pointed to an old fern that he could tell used to be tall. Taller than any others here. But something had happened to knock it down to almost nothing. It stood, half a thing, branches all cocked, green needles growing in patches. It was covered in snow because there was nothing blocking it from the sky.

He approached it, finally letting go of his mama's hand. He _loved _that tree. Even after it looked like it'd been through _hell_, it still stood tall, taller than all the rest, and he was proud of it.

"That's our Christmas tree." He turned to mama, confused.

She laughed, high and crackly. Her neck stretched up to the sky.

"Dumb boy." The words stung, but he didn't let _that_ show on his face. "You _know_ he don't let us get no tree." And he knew what she meant then.

A Christmas tree. _Their_ Christmas tree.

He'd never had a tree for Christmas before. He'd never had _nothing_ before on Christmas. It was always just Memaw, coming over, cooking her special dinner, and them eatin' it like it was the best thing they'd ever had.

Even though they had the same thing every damn year, at the same damn time. Memaw never changed.

Mama sighed, tossing the cigarette. She came up behind him and he didn't know what to do. Just stood there.

And she wrapped her thin arms around his shoulders, her chin resting against his neck. The smell of cigarette smoke and booze washed over him.

"Yer daddy can't never take this away from us."

_Us._ He'd never heard that word come from her before. Never felt her body this close before. He didn't know what to _do_.

"The forest will always be _yers_, baby."

He could feel her heart, fluttering fast and hard against his back, the warmth of her comforting. The cold didn't matter anymore.

"_Always._"

* * *

**A/N: **Christmas with the Dixons. As much of one as they can get. Hoped you liked it.

**Also,** I average (for myself) that Merle is 13 years older than Daryl.

_Your reviews would mean the world to me._


	7. High

**EM: **I'm so glad you all liked my Dixon Christmas. Your support and love makes me feel wonderful. So I'll just give you this, in thanks.

**Disclaimer**: Daryl and Merle Dixon belong to Robert Kirkman and AMC. The lyrics of **Ramblin' Man** by The Allman Brothers Band were borrowed and slightly altered. Can't say if the brothers would ever sing this song, but it served my purposes.

**Warning: Rated M** for Language and Drugs

* * *

High

Merle was gone. Not gone gone, just _gone_. And this wasn't the first time.

Daryl could hear him all the way down the road. It was a good thing he didn't ride, or else Daryl was sure he'd be picking his brother off the road in pieces. Wasn't that a heartening sentiment.

"My father was a drunkard down in Georgia," Merle's voice carried far, and way off-tune. They didn't have neighbors that were close, but he was loud enough that they would still hear him.

"And he wound up on the wrong end of a gun." Merle finished the line off with a cacklin' laugh. Daryl didn't think it was so funny. In fact, something inside him, twisted.

"And I was born in the back seat of a beat up ol' Buick."

"Heeeey." Daryl grit his teeth. The second voice was female and sounded young, stupid and inexperienced. Just what Merle liked. "That's not how it goes," she slurred.

"I didn't ask you," Merle spit back.

"Rollin' down the highway of my life!" Daryl could make them both out now, their shadows in the dark close together. He watched them stumble up to the porch. Daryl didn't bother gettin' up from his chair.

Merle didn't even see him until he was trippin' up the stairs and his own feet. The girl at his side fell on her face. Merle laughed and didn't bother helping her up. He glanced up and spotted Daryl.

"Why," Merle crooned, "if it isn't my baby brother, Darylena!" Merle righted himself unsteadily, the girl forgotten at his feet, and he pitched forward into Daryl.

Daryl caught his brother before he took them both down, gripping Merle's shoulders tight. Booze washed over him, heavy and putrid.

"Damn, bro. Did ya drink the whole bar?" Merle looked him in the eyes and gave him a lopsided grin. Daryl hadn't meant it as joke. And now, he knew it was more than just booze givin' his brother a good time.

Merle's eyes were bloodshot, the pupils dilated. And there, just around his nose, was a little white.

"Fuck Merle." He watched his brother's face twist in confusion.

"What's wrong, baby brother? Me 'n, 'n," Merle searched for the girls name without any luck. She looked up from her place on the ground with a pissed off look on her face.

"It's _Charlotte_. You fuckin' forget my name already?" The disgust on her face was apparent and Daryl hoped was enough to get her out of here. He didn't need her stayin' over. He would have enough problems in the morning.

"Naw sweetcheeks. Merle don't forget nothing. He just likes to hear _you_ say it," Merle slurred, slumping against Daryl. He couldn't take it any longer. He hauled Merle higher up on his legs, and looked down at the girl.

"Get outta here. We ain't got no room for you." Her face got as red as her hair and looked as if she were going to spit fire at Daryl. But she just stood up, brushed her short ass skirt down, and stalked off, wobbling back and forth.

"Fuck you Dixons," she yelled back. Merle started cackling again, shaking them both. Daryl rubbed his face with his free hand. At least he was rid of something.

"Damn brother. Why'da hafta to go and do that?" Merle wrapped an arm around Daryl's shoulder and pulled him close. Merle smelled like booze, sweat and _old_. Daryl could never understand the last one, but he could always smell it after Merle came back from the bar. "She was a _nice_ piece of ass." Merle said, winking at him. "You know I don't mind sharin'."

Daryl scoffed, ignoring his brother's antics. He just wanted to get Merle inside, and in the bed. The faster he went to sleep, the better this night would be. "I don't take sloppy seconds." Merle laughed, thumping him on the back.

"Your loss _Darylena_." Merle rubbed his head, mussing his hair and pushing off his chest. Daryl watched as Merle stumbled through the doorway and into the dark of the ol' Man's house.

He sighed and turned his back on the door, looking up at the night sky.

He fuckin' hated it when Merle got high. It always made him an asshole in the morning. Not that Merle _wasn't_ an asshole any other day, but when he was speedballin', Daryl made sure he wasn't around if he wasn't needed.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and sighed again. Most mornings he _was_ needed though. Merle didn't know when enough was enough.

Daryl sat on the steps and cradled his head in his hands.

One of these days he was pretty sure he was going to wake up and find Merle dead.

He looked up at the stars; the sound of Merle's heavy breathing breaking the silence that had descended.

He wasn't sure if that upset him or not.

* * *

**Reviews mean a **_**lot**_**. **

**A/N: **Merle, booze, heroin and coke, women. And Daryl. Just a moment of their life.

Leave a few words behind before you go.

Thanks for being in my Dead world.


	8. Doe

**EM**: A big, huge, Dixon thank you to **letmefallasleep **for your Southern wisdom. And, in response to your last chapter question (for others who also might be wonderin'): I put Daryl at 20, making Merle 33. And thank you to everyone else who keeps coming back. Honestly, you guys are freakin' awesome.

**Disclaimer**: Daryl and Merle Dixon belong to Robert Kirkman and AMC.

**Rated: M** for Language, Violence, and **Child Abuse**

* * *

Doe

A branch snapped beneath his foot.

"Be fuckin' _quiet_ boy," daddy snapped at him. Daddy didn't even turn around, his big back hulking in front of him. A flock of wild birds took flight. His daddy cursed. He took an involuntary step back, trying to avoid a smack if one was comin'. But daddy just kept moving, his huge black boots never makin' a sound, even as _he_ crashed over crispy leaves, tree branches and whatever the hell else was on the ground. And it was _loud_.

This time he stepped into a hole and pitched forward, giving a cry and crashing to the ground.

And daddy did turn around this time, glaring at him from beneath his bushy black eyebrows. "I'll tan yur hide boy if you don't fuckin' _shut it_." Daryl pulled back, his shoulders caving in, his body curling inward protectively. He could see in daddy's eyes that he _wanted_ to hit him.

But he knew, and daddy knew, that it would just scare off the game more than he had already done it.

He stood up, as quietly as he could manage, and picked up the rifle off the ground.

The rifle.

He shifted it in his hands. It was his first time holding it. It was heavy and uncomfortable. Like a dead weight, forboding and terrible in his hands.

He didn't like the way it felt. It made him feel weak and stupid. Like he couldn't handle the weapon, like he didn't know _how_ too.

But really, it made him feel _dangerous_.

Daddy was dangerous. Merle was dangerous. The whole world was dangerous.

And he knew that he didn't want to be like the whole world. He didn't want to be like Merle.

And he sure as _hell_ didn't want to be like daddy.

"Git down!" Daddy's hand grabbed him by the collar and dragged him behind some brush, where he crouched with daddy. The rifle was suddenly shaking in his hands.

He saw daddy glance down at the rifle, then at his face, and he swallowed hard, hoping that his fear would go with it.

Daddy pointed to something through the brush. Daryl looked but he couldn't see anything. He took a glance back at daddy and received a smack to the back of the head. He winced, and waited for the spinnin' to stop. Then he looked harder.

And there it was. The most beautiful beast he'd ever seen.

The doe was light brown, but her underbelly was white. And she had all these spots on her. She weren't very big, but she was so sweet and innocent lookin' that he didn't even know that daddy was talkin' to him until he got another smack to the head.

He winced, rubbing the spot.

"Pay _attention_ boy. Else you won't be gettin' no dinner." Daryl swallowed and nodded.

"Rifle up." He pulled it up.

"Stock on yur shoulder." He pulled the butt against his shoulder.

"Steady it." He held it tight.

"Trigger." Right hand set.

"Look down the line boy." He looked down the barrel of the gun, the doe now in his sight. He couldn't see it very well, so he closed one eye.

"Open your fuckin' eye," daddy whispered hotly. So he did. And he waited. Staring. Holding that gun. Breathing hard.

"Shoot it." Daryl blanched, his breath stuck in his throat.

_Shoot it? _

How could he shoot something so beautiful, so innocent? It didn't do nothing wrong. All it was doin' was livin' and who could blame it for that?

"But-" This time he saw black, his face exploding in pain. He fell to the ground, hand clasping his face. Daryl didn't cry out this time, but the tears still fell down his face.

"But _nothin'_ you fuckin' worthless sack a dog shit. Even that little prick Merle could do it, and he ain't done nothin' right since the day he was _born_." Daryl cringed, as his daddy's face pinched tighter, grew redder and his voice never went higher than that hoarse whisper. Daddy had never said so much before in one go. And daddy never talked about Merle, _never_.

And just when he thought daddy was gonna clob him again, he whipped his own rifle up and _bam_.

Daryl whipped his head and watched, in stunned silence, as the doe fell to the ground, its body now limp, lifeless and utterly devoid of anything it once held as beautiful. Birds took flight to the sky.

It hit the ground with a thud, and Daryl could hear his heart beating hard against his chest.

Daddy rose to his feet. But Daryl couldn't move.

A knife fell at his feet, and there was somethin' dark in daddy's eyes, somethin' that Daryl had never seen before.

"You get to take care of that now," daddy said, low and dangerous.

Daryl said nothing, got up, and walked to the dead doe, just inches from it.

And blood pooled around his boots, the harsh crimson bright against the green leaves, staining them both.

* * *

**Reviews mean **_**a lot**_**. **

**A/N**: Ask me if I know anything about guns? That's right, nothing. So I did some quick, fancy internet searching. I got a _teensy_ basic stuff. If you find you really need to correct me on it, then just send me a_ nice_ PM about it. Otherwise, leave it be.

Thanks for being here, with me and Daryl.


	9. Chief

**Nox: **You know I really did mean to put this in before. Happy New Year ya'll. Thanks for still being here.

**Disclaimer: **The Dixon brothers belong to Robert Kirkman and AMC.

* * *

Chief

Merle was bein' nice. And _that_ made him nervous. Smiling, and patting Daryl on the back. Makin' small conversation like it was somethin' they did every damn day. Somethin' told Daryl it was coz he was back from the Marines, with a _dis_honorable discharge slapped on his back.

Somethin' that should have kept Merle in a bad fuckin' mood for a long time.

"It ain't no bike or nothin'," Merle quipped, unloading a box from the back of the Ford pickup. Daryl could just make out a bag of sorts as Merle dropped it to the ground at his feet. _No shit_, he thought. Still didn't tell him why Merle needed to borrow his truck, or why he was gone for so fuckin' long.

But Daryl figured he should just keep his damn mouth shut, and let Merle do what Merle did.

_Wooof._

"What the _fuck_ is that?" Merle looked up, a crooked smile twisting up one side of his face. Daryl didn't _like_ that smile.

"My gift to _you_, baby brother." Sometimes, he really hated being the baby in this equation.

Merle opened the passenger door and let something climb out. It rounded the bed of the truck and bounded at Daryl.

"Are you shittin' me Merle?" Merle laughed, and Daryl could tell from it that he was enjoying this way too damn much.

"Name's Chief."

Daryl was lookin' at a fuckin' _dog_. _Merle_ had gotten him a fuckin' dog.

"What?" He said, stunned. The dog jumped up at Daryl, bayin' and howlin', tail wagging in happy greeting.

"You heard me_ Darylena_." Daryl scowled and bent down to pet the wild thing.

He couldn't deny though. He was a sharp lookin' dog. White, with black spots all over, and floppy ears. Coons were good huntin' dogs too.

The dog nosed forward and licked his face, hot breath rushing across his cheeks and sat down between Daryl's kneeling legs.

"Chief," he muttered under his breath, testing out the name, rubbing those long ears, the dogs tongue flopping out. His ass was on the ground, but that tail never stopped movin'.

Merle had never gotten him _nothin'_. He could remember, could think back on every birthday, every holiday, every _moment_ of his life and he _knew_. Merle didn't get nobody nothin'.

Not even him. So this, this_ dog_, made him wary.

"What's he for?" He asked, regretting it already. Merle's face twisted, brows drawing down.

"Can't a man ever get his _baby_ brother somethin'?" He snapped, slamming the door to the Ford. He stalked off, up the steps to the ol' man's house and let the screen door fall shut with a snap behind him.

And there he was. Merle. The one that Daryl knew. The dog stopped lickin' and waggin', glancing back at the sudden change in atmosphere.

"Don't worry boy," he said, rubbin' the dog behind the ears. The dog turned round, tongue lolling out. Like he smilin' up at him.

"Merle got me a gift," he muttered. Merle actually went out, found him a dog, picked it out, bought it or found it, gave it a name, and drove with it all the way home. All for _him_.

_His brother_.

He couldn't believe it. But there sat the gift, the _dog_. He never would a thought he'd a got a dog. The ol' man would a never allowed a dog. The ol' man never wanted him and Merle neither, so a dog was _never _no option. And Ma woulda never a cared.

The dog looked back at him, and started panting. He got up, started bounding around the yard, bayin' its fool head off.

Happier than anybody had ever been round this fuckin' house.

And Daryl couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

"Chief." And the dog came boundin' up to him, howlin', paws on his chest.

* * *

**A/N**: Chief is specifically a Bluetick Coonhound.

_Your reviews would mean the world to me. _


	10. Hell on Earth

**EM: **Thank you so much for _still_ being here, my beautiful, awesome readers. Your reviews mean so much to me. But _please_ do me a favor. Read **ALL **of that warning. I don't care if _you_ don't care about that stuff after you've read it. I don't need any hate.

**Disclaimer**: The Dixons belong to Robert Kirkman and AMC.

**Rated**: Mature. **Please read warning below.** I do not joke.

**WARNING**: This is Merle folks. And I wrote him _like Merle_. Which means there is foul, _foul _language. If you take offense to slangs, slurs or racial comments, I suggest you leave through that door right now (or be forewarned). _Because Merle, he holds nothing back from me._ And _I_ hold nothing back from you.

**Domestic Violence, Language, Racial Slurs and Abortion (mentioned) are also present.**

* * *

Hell on Earth

Juvie was like hell on earth. You couldn't do nothing, you couldn't say nothing, you couldn't even _piss_ without pissing some fat, sonuvabitch blue vest off. And you sure as hell couldn't _talk _to nobody without comin' off as a patsy ass wuss.

_Only_ thing that was good was that he were in here, and the ol' man were out there.

Dammit if he didn't wish he were at home with Daryl though. Daryl at least _listened _to him, even if he was just a baby. Like hell if he would ever admit that to anybody though.

He hated them. These kids, they were all fuckin' idiots. All in here doing time for something that was nothing. And ya couldn't actually call it _time_ when you got a real bed to sleep in, real food to eat, and you even got to go outside when the weather was nice.

And the weather was nice every-fuckin'-day in Georgia.

And he _hated_ goin' outside. They wanted him to play _games _like he was some fuckin' freak. Like tossing around a damn ball, throwing it in the hoop was gonna change him. _Basketball._

Basketball was for them niggers. They hopped around on that court, running back and forth like fuckin' fags, tossing a ball the size of their heads round. Their heads were filled with nothing but air too, just like that fuckin' ball.

He hated going to juvie coz they never seemed to understand they he never got along with nobody. They were _trash_.

_Everybody_ was trash. Nobody was excluded from the pile of shit they all came from.

The spics huddled in the corner, hustlin' their cigs and their fuckin' _homemade_ shanks. Who the fuck did that? And then them niggers sat there on them benches like they owned the fuckin' place. He could show them a thing or two. And then them fuckin' _hillbillies._ Gave him a bad fuckin' name. Yeah, he were a redneck, but he weren't no fuckin' mountain man who didn't have no fuckin' sense of what was up and what was down.

They were all fuckin' stupid.

They all_ belonged_ there. They weren't worth _nothing_.

_Except one. _

His baby brother had come into the world, unexpected, almost _discarded_, and had landed right at his feet, and Merle hadn't a been the same since.

He remembered the day his mama came down the stair in a fit of rage, smoke in one hand, stick pisser in the other, screaming bloody fuckin' murder. She tossed that little baby marker right at the ol' man's face, yelling about fuckin' her over this, knockin' her up that.

She didn't _want_ no more kids, she'd said. She was done with all that raisin' shit, she said. She'd already had one, and look what he'd turned into.

He remembered lookin' right at his mama's face when she'd said that. She looked him square in the face, took a drag on that cigarette, and said _"what? Don't you got somethin' to do elsewhere, boy?" _

They argued. Or his mama yelled, and his daddy just sat there, drinking his booze.

And then he just up and knocked her ass flat on the floor. He remembered the blood dripping off her lip. And daddy's voice, deep and grating against his ears. _"I don't much care what you fuckin' want."_

And that was that. Mama got up, picked up her smoke, and trailed back up the stairs to do fuck knows what in that room of hers.

Eight months later, he was looking at this wrinkled, piece of innocence. Weak. Vulnerable.

And he had felt...

No. He wouldn't admit to that.

Coz Merle wasn't weak. He wasn't vulnerable. He didn't _cry._

_Daryl_ didn't cry though. Never cried once. It wasn't until he were grown, walking on his own two legs, talking but not talking, when he realized that Daryl had something in that chest of his that he didn't.

And living in that house, would be like hell on earth for his baby brother.

He tried to make it easier. But he'd just ended up givin' his baby brother hell as well. Turned out, he weren't no different than the ol' man.

And Daryl was home, _alone_, with the ol' man and their good-for-shit mama.

And he was stuck in juvie, not able to do _shit _about it. The thought made his blood run hot and all he wanted to do was knock somebodies teeth in, _again_.

That's what got him into this hell in the first place.

Hell was always waitin' for him at home or in juvie. Don't matter where he go.

Except if he were with Daryl.

But he'd suffer hell on earth before he'd admit that to anybody.

* * *

**Reviews mean _a lot._  
**

**A/N: **Did you take my warning seriously? Don't say I didn't warn you. Take it, or leave it.

Thanks for being here, with Merle and I.


	11. Loved

**EM**: So the Dixons and I, are having this intense _affair_ that none of you have any affect on. But your reviews seriously make me the happiest person on the fuckin' planet. Please, don't _ever _stop.

**Disclaimer**: But _unfortunately_, the Dixons belong to Robert Kirkman and AMC.

**Warning**: Child Abuse

* * *

Loved

He was runnin'. Running so hard, the cold air was burnin' his lungs. Branches snagged at his pant legs, tearin' at his cheeks, slappin' at his bare arms.

His face hurt real bad. His chest still felt heavy. And his back _burned_. He could feel the hot ash still trailin' down his skin.

He couldn't get far enough _away_ from that house.

Couldn't get away from that cigarette.

Couldn't get away from _daddy_.

Couldn't get away from that _look_ on daddy's face as he watched that cigarette hit him, not even caring to _get up_ to run that hot cigarette over his skin. No, daddy just sat there and _threw _it at him, not a lick of care or hate when that still-burning butt tumbled over the lip of his shirt, and down his back, scalding his skin.

And mama's face, when Daryl screamed out in shock, at the contact of that slow, sharp, hot pain as it burned down his back, hurt him even worse than that stupid cig.

And then daddy got up and _punched him_ in the face, pushed his big black boot into chest, _crushing _the air from his lungs, and punched him _again, and again and again_.

He didn't even have the strength to put his arms up. Didn't have the will to fight back. Why _should_ he, when mama didn't care. She just sat there and _watched_ like it was nothin'. Like _he _was nothin'.

He felt his eyes burn and brushed at them with the back of his hands. Daryl pumped his legs harder, ran faster, and ducked his head.

Mama's face, as she watched daddy drink and drink and _drink_ like the bottle was endless, just kept gettin' more and more empty. He was startin' to think that she was hopin' it would be _him_ that got the lickin' and not her.

Mama didn't care. Mama didn't care bout him, or Merle or bout nothin' but her slim cigs and her cheap wine.

And that_ scared_ him.

He felt his foot catch on a tree root, and he dove head first to the ground. He didn't feel like gettin' up, and he buried his achin' face in the grass, the darkness cradling him.

_Merle_ was never scared. Not never in Daryl's whole six years of livin' in that house. Not when daddy had whooped on Merle so bad he'd been bleeding from the head for two days straight, and he'd had bruised ribs. Not when daddy had left them outside, all night, in the middle of one winter. It had snowed then, as their stupid luck would a had it.

Not even when daddy made Merle stand by the beer bottles that he used for target practice, when he wanted to shoot off some rounds. Merle had been so close as the shards of glass splintered off in all directions, but most specifically, cuttin' inta him.

No, Daryl had never seen Merle scared.

So why was he?

And then, for some reason, she'd told Daryl to get his dumb, stupid ass off the floor and to _git_, like he was lyin' there for the fun of it. Hauled him up by the arm, and tossed him out the door, slammin' it shut with a force that could a knocked that rickety old house down if mama'd had enough strength for it.

He could never understand mama. Sometimes, she acted like she cared. Like she was gonna treat him better'n what she did. And then she acted like he weren't nothin' but a bug beneath her foot. A bug she was gonna _squash._

He _hated _that. Hated it when mama acted just like daddy. Mama never seemed to care one way or the other what their daddy did, or what Merle did, or what _he_ did for that matter. Seemed to him that once he knew how to walk, and talk, and piss for himself that he was on his own.

Mama drank, and smoke, and laughed in that room upstairs, having a kind of fun that Daryl would never understand.

Daddy drank, and smoke, and sat there, staring with a emptiness only the bottom of a bottle can explain.

Merle had done what daddy told him, took what daddy _gave_ him, and never once said a thing about it. Then he left.

And Daryl was just waiting in the shadows, for the day when he would be next.

It made his heart _burn_ thinking bout mama, actin' like he weren't worth nothin'.

He wanted to be_ loved. _Coz he knew he were worth_ somethin'. _

* * *

**Reviews mean _a lot._  
**

**A/N: **Daryl and I are spending a lot of time together. I think I'm neglecting some other important things...

Thanks for being here with us.


	12. Forgive

**EM**: Merle was talkin' to me again. So here we are. He ain't _so_ bad in this one. And I can't believe how much you all got _tore up_ over the last chapter. Just damn near touched my heart. Thanks you guys.

**Also,** please read my author's note below. There's something there I'd like you all to check out!

**Rated: M** for Child Abuse

* * *

Forgive

He didn't normally watch him sleep. And he sure as hell ain't admittin' to nobody that he ever did. But sometimes, he needed to just check in and make sure that he were still there.

Still breathin'.

Still _safe_.

Daryl never knew that though.

He could remember all the times the ol' man had come, boots knockin', through _his_ door just to have a late night whoopin' on his ass. He could still feel the one from three nights ago, achin' against his chest, his belly and his shoulder.

The ol' man just wailed on him, not a reason or nothin'. One minute he's sleepin', not that he was out cold or nothin' he knew better'n that, and the next he's pounded awake, breath forced from his lungs as a fist collided with his belly.

He couldn't defend from those attacks. Even if he didn't sleep well, ever, he weren't never awake enough when it happened to defend against'em.

And the ol' man_ knew _that, fuck him, he did.

And the ol' man knew just how much he hated him for that.

"…don't hurt'im…not Merle…"

Merle shifted his feet.

Daryl liked to talk in his sleep too, somethin' else he didn't know. Mostly it was just Daryl, groanin', pantin', or mumblin' at somethin' to stop. He suspected his baby brother was already havin' nightmares about the ol' man.

Merle couldn't hear it most times. Daryl slept on his stomach, curled inward toward the door, face stuffed into the pillow. He figured Daryl did it to protect hisself. Protect his face, and his front. Daryl always did turn his back on the ol' man whenever he went in for a hit.

He always slept with his back to the wall, so that whenever the ol' man _did _come in for a hit he would have a fightin' chance. But Daryl…Daryl always let the ol' man have his way with him. But he weren't gonna let his baby brother suffer as long as he were there to stop it.

"…please daddy…"

Merle growled in the back of his throat as Daryl's plea ended with a whimper. He could feel his fists curling at his sides.

"What the fuck you lookin' at boy?"

He stiffened. _How the fuck?_

"I says," the ol' man gripped him by the neck, _hard_, "what you lookin' at _boy_?" He wouldn't admit it, _never_, but that hoarse whisper from the ol' man sent fear straight down his spine.

But that fear weren't for him.

"None a yur goddamn business," he hissed back.

The ol' man's hand slipped around his neck and squeezed, cutting off his air.

But he didn't choke, didn't gasp.

Coz now, Daryl was watching. Eyes wide, mouth clamped shut, hands grippin' the sheets so tight his knuckles were turnin' white.

But the ol' man was still there, hovering over him, still _bigger _than him.

Fuck did he _hate _that.

He couldn't let the ol' man know that he was there though, for Daryl, makin' sure he were safe.

So he let a smile slip past, and elbowed the ol' man in the gut. There was gonna be punishment for that, but he could take it.

He could _always _take it. "Just figurin' out how I'm gonna make the little shit _pay _tomorrow." The ol' man had him pinned to the wall, Daryl momentarily forgotten. Even if he had just talked bout him, didn't matter. He'd hit the ol' man back. Given what he always gave. The ol' man weren't gonna let that go.

"Gonna make the little fuck _scream_ tomorrow. Just like you always make me do, you fuckin' weak old-"

Cept the ol' man weren't weak. And he sure as hell weren't that old. Coz he punched him in the face, right in the nose, his eyes going black, little lights shinin' all over. And then he got one in the gut, and another in the shoulder. Pain echoing all over his body. Sonuvabitch was _strong_.

Hurt like fuckin' hell. But he didn't scream. Didn't cry out. Didn't show the asshole no weakness.

Didn't show his daddy that he got to him.

He weren't sure what Daryl were thinkin' bout all this, specially since he said he was gonna do the same thing to him tomorrow. And now that he brought it up to the ol' man, which he'll probably remember, he'll probably '_ave_ to do it.

And Daryl, weren't never gonna forgive him for that. The scars, the pain, would always be there. _He_ had the ol' man's scars to prove it. And he _never_ forgot where they all came from.

And Merle, he wouldn't forgive hisself either.

* * *

**Reviews mean **_**a lot.**_

**A/N**: I don't normally do this, but I'm wonderin' if any of you are **Caryl fans**. And if ya are, I'm **lookin for a prompt**. An idea. Something you'd like to see between Daryl and Carol. Because I'd really like to write another story of them, but I can't decide on anything, and the last one I wrote for them was a prompt, and it turned out pretty good (Salvage our Revelations). So if you got something, **send me a PM**.

Thanks for being here with Merle and I.


	13. Waitin'

**EM:** So I'd just like to say thanks to **ArmedWithMyComputer** and **TearsOfTheForgotten**. You've both been around since the beginning and have been _reviewing _since the beginning, probably for every chapter. It really means a lot to me to know that you guys are still here, and you still like this. That doesn't exclude the rest of you either. The Dixon's don't speak to me _half _as fast as they normally would without all of you. So, thanks.

**Disclaimer**: The Dixons belong to Robert Kirkman and AMC.

**Warning**: Rated **M** for Drug Use, **Graphic Child Abuse** and Suicidal Thoughts

* * *

Waitin'

He shoulda left. Shouldn'ta stayed.

He couldn't _take_ watchin' Merle shoot that shit up his arm. It was like watchin' him die, little by little, and he couldn't do nothin' bout it. Like Merle was _tryin'_ ta kill himself.

But he couldn't _not_ stay at his brother's side. Merle was gonna need him, when the high was too high, and the low came rushin' up to kick him in the balls.

"Don't ya wanna give it a try baby brother?" He always asked. Every single time he shot the shit, he always tried to git him to do it with him. But Daryl weren't no fool. He'd seen what that fuckin' shit did to his brother. Seen what it done to the ol' man.

It turned him inside out. Made him a shell a what he coulda been. Played around with who Merle really was and then tossed him in the gutter when it was finished.

Course, he knew he couldn't blame it on Merle. That was the fuckin' problem. It was all the ol' man's fault.

_Fuckin' sonuvabitch_. If he were here, they'd prob'ly be shootin' up together, sick as that thought was.

He could still sorta remember the day the ol' man had ruined Merle's life, ferfuckinever. Though now, Merle wouldn't remember it the same it way, wouldn't _admit_ to that.

He weren't nothin' but a little kid then, couldn't even remember most of those days. But he could remember _that_ one. Just like one of the ol' man's cigarette burns, permanently stamped into his skin, 'cept in his memory.

"_Fuckin' take it like a man, boy." Daddy had Merle pinned to the ground, both his legs under one a his, an arm under the other. And then he held Merle's arm, a needle full a somethin' whitish. He didn't no what it were, but he knew it shouldn't be injected by no needle. Knew it weren't nothin' good. _

_And Merle didn't _want_ it. He was fightin' tooth and nail to get away from daddy and that needle. Even got a punch in across daddy's face. Daryl couldn't believe daddy didn't do nothin' bout that. _

"_Yur gonna like it boy, trust me." Even Daryl knew that you never trusted daddy when he said that. _

"_Fuck you ol' man!"_

_But it didn't matter how much strugglin' Merle put up. Daddy sat on him then, both legs holdin' down the one arm, and daddy slid that needle in real quick. Even when Merle bit his thigh, pounded his back, kicked and stomped, daddy didn't flinch. _

_After that white liquid was gone, and the needle discarded on the floor, Merle gave up. Slumped to the floor, all the fight just _gone_. Daddy laughed. Daryl had never heard that sound come from him before. _

_Merle weren't the same after that._

Merle was _addicted_ after that. From coke, to smack, to any pills he could get his hands on. Weed when he was just lookin' to keep the high goin' and booze to make it last even longer.

If he could get his hands on it, he even took a lick at that meth.

Daryl hated it when he was on ice. When he was iced, he was a fuckin' asshole. It was even worse when he was off it.

He sighed, runnin' a hand through his hair.

"Don't know what yur missin' brother," Merle sighed. _Yeah, I sure as fuck do brother._

"Yeah," he moaned, sliding the needle out, the little pockets of red dotting his brothers arm, right at the crook of his elbow making Daryl wince. Merle leaned back, eyes sliding shut, riding a high that Daryl knew he never wanted to experience, _never_.

He may 'ave hated his scars, may a wanted to skin the ol' man alive for ever puttin' a damn hand on him, but to see Merle markin' hisself up like that, hurt Daryl even more.

Made him hate the ol' man more than he would ever admit.

"Awoof." He reached down, gave ol' Chief a rub behind the ears.

"I know boy." Most days, Chief never hung around to witness Merle when he got fucked up. Chief had a limp gait now, coz a Merle. Had a messed up lip coz a Merle. Even his tail was crooked coz a Merle.

Sometimes, he wondered if Merle didn't get him Chief just so he could fuck him up.

Just so it could fuck with _him_.

"Ya know brother," Merle said, so quiet Daryl had to lean forward to hear what he was sayin'. "I fuckin' wish I'da died."

He blanched. "The _fuck_?" Merle said a lot a fuckin' things when he was drunk, when he was fuckin' gone. But _this_? Daryl didn't know what the hell this was bout.

Merle glanced down at the patchwork of dots littering his inner arm, and Daryl coulda _sworn_ to fuckin' god, if he didn't know any better, that Merle was cryin'.

But Dixons_ didn't_ cry.

And Merle didn't finish. He just let his arm drop back to his side.

"What? Whatchya mean by that Merle?" He got to his feet, Chief rising with him, sensing the tension. He grabbed Merle by the collar and pulled him forward.

"What the hell you mean Merle!" His head fell back, eyes glazed and his breath shallow. He didn't respond. Daryl glanced at the needle, saw the _two _little bags of shit on the couch next to him. Weren't just no fuckin' coke in that needle. Merle was speedballin'.

"Fuck Merle." He let him fall back against the couch.

He didn't even know if Merle would wake up in the morning. He'd have to wait and see.

That was the worst part. _Waitin'._ Not knowing whether or not he'd wake up to hear Merle callin' his ass awake in the morning. If he'd feel his brothers hand on his shoulder, shakin' him awake.

Even _if _he still drew his knife on him, Merle still never stopped wakin' him.

He wouldn't never tell Merle, but he'd fuckin' miss that.

He sank back into the chair, Chief settlin' at his side. He'd probably fall asleep there, and wake to Merle dry-heavin' in the morning.

He'd 'ave to believe that.

Merle's voice drifted across the silence between them, quiet, the admission not really meant to be said.

"Ol' man shoulda jacked me full a shit and killed me then."

Maybe Merle _was_ tryin' to kill himself.

* * *

**Reviews mean **_**a lot.**_

**A/N**: So, I'm not sure of this chapter myself. But I went with it. May or may not be a good one. Ah well. Daryl spoke to me, and Merle was both high _and _suicidal. I always figured the drugs were never really a part of his thing. And that once he started, he'd never be able to quit, not unless it was _by _them. I sort of just depressed myself there.

Anyway, so if ya'll didn't know, **I posted a prompt fic titled** Promise, courtesy of **letmefallasleep**. It's a _Maryl_. Daryl/Carol/Merle. That's right; I gave them a ship name. Please go check it out. It's not completed, but I am _almost_ finished with the last chapter. So far, it's been a hit.

As always, thanks for being here, with Daryl and I.


	14. Kill

**EM**: So Promise was a hit. _So_ glad. Now I'm back to my boys. This one is sort of…_violent_.

Take heed.

**Disclaimer**: Dixons belong to Kirkman and AMC.

* * *

Kill

"You either hit him, _boy_, or I'll tan that worthless hide a yurs."

Daryl didn't know what to do. All he could do was stand there, opposite a Merle and _watch_.

"Hit'im!" Daryl flinched. But Merle just stood there, calm as could ever be. Even as daddy twisted and burned out his cigarette against Merle's _skin_ he didn't move a damn muscle.

He just stood there, watching him.

And what was he supposed to do? Ever since mama had…since _then_, daddy had been actin' all kinds of crazy. Merle, he weren't usually here. But for some reason, he was suddenly home. More than normal.

Not that he were complainin'. Instead a daddy only havin' _him _to focus on, now he had _both a_ them too.

Daryl hated that he thought that way. But the bruise, still black and purple, across his left shoulder, and the three pockmarked burns across the back of his neck didn't let him think any other way. Daryl didn't want to _hurt_ no more.

And Daddy was in a _mood_, and Daryl 'spected it was coz a mama.

He never thought he'd a been _this_ worked up over mama's…well he just didn't know. With the way he was always hittin', and yellin' at her, he figured he hated mama as much as he hated _him_.

And it weren't _fair. _He missed mama, he didn't even know _why, _and he didn't get to go round and beat the hell outta nobody. Didn't get to kick them, and burn them, and tell them it was _their fault_ and that they were _fuckin' useless_, and that it_ shoulda been him instead a her_.

That thought had crossed his mind too.

"I'm fuckin' talkin' to you boy." Daryl snapped back, eyes meetin' daddy's suddenly. He couldn't stop the fear this time from swallowin' him whole. He didn't even realize daddy had walked right up to him.

"I-" And daddy smacked him clear across the face, splittin' his lip. Pain shot across his jaw. He tasted metal in his mouth, and swallowed.

"Don't you fuckin' talk back to me."

"What are ya a fuckin' pussy?" Daddy's eyes narrowed, dangerous. Daryl wanted to take a step back but he knew better'n that.

"Why don't ya take on someone yur own size ol' man. He don't weigh more 'n hunderd pounds soakin' wet." Daddy turned round, gripped Daryl by the collar and tossed him at Merle's feet.

Daryl had to look up far to see Merle's face. That was how big he'd gotten. He were a man now, livin' where he wanted, comin' when he wanted, workin' on his own.

Even had his own car.

Daryl wished he could leave. Didn't know _why_ Merle had come back.

"You fuckin' hit him, boy, or I'll skin that pretty lil face a yurs." Merle glanced down at Daryl, and then back at daddy. Daryl started to shake then. He hated to think he was such a pussy, coz Merle woulda called him that, but it were true. Daddy wanted them to _fight _each other.

Wanted them to beat each other up. Like it was some _game_.

"I don't hit nothin' that can't hit back." Merle stepped over Daryl, approachin' daddy with a confidence Daryl hadn't seen in a long time. But he felt a stab at his chest, as if Merle were callin' him _weak_.

"I ain't _weak_."

Merle turned so fast, Daryl thought it was the streak of a bird through sunlight he was seein'. And the look on his _face_. He suddenly felt the need to crawl under a rock, to run into those trees behind him and _never look back_.

Daddy was smilin', somethin' wicked.

"At least _one _of my boys ain't a fuckin' turd." Merle's lip turned up in a snarl, but he still wouldn't turn round to face daddy. Daryl didn't know what he'd done wrong. Was he _not _supposed to be strong?

"Go 'head _Daryl._ Show yur brother what it takes to be a man." His eyes went wide. He don't think he'd ever heard his daddy call him by name. Not _never_. Not never in his whole_ fuckin'_ life.

Wouldn't matter none. Merle stalked toward him and gripped him by the collar, lifting him off his feet.

"You better fuckin' _run_ baby brother," he whispered and dropped him to the ground.

"Just coz ma killed herself, and you can't take it out on her no more, don't mean you can play yur fuckin' games with_ us_." Daryl shoulda listened to Merle.

Daryl had never _seen_ daddy move so fast.

He was on Merle before Merle could a even _thought_ to do somethin' bout it. He slammed his fist into Merle's face, and Merle fell back a few feet, on his ass.

Where he stayed.

Daddy crouched over him, slamming fist after fist, after fist inta Merle in his face, and his chest, and his belly, and thighs. Merle kept his hands up, tryin' to do _anythin'_ but it didn't matter.

Weren't long before nothin' of Merle was but blue, black and blood. And Daryl felt so helpless, shakin' and tremblin'. Felt like he was gonna piss hisself.

And then Merle was just limp on the ground. And Daryl thought he was…

"STOP!"

Daddy paused, mid-blow, blank gaze searching for the voice that had interrupted him. He grunted and looked down at Merle, lip curlin' in disgust. He took one last punch and then stood over Merle, and spit on him.

"Fuckin' worthless piece a shit," and kicked Merle in the side.

Daryl didn't move until daddy was gone. But once he was sure he were, he _ran_ to Merle's side, fallin' over his own two feet.

"Merle," he panted. He could feel his eyes startin' to burn.

The blood was everywhere. His face was swollen. His chest were already black, and his shoulder weren't far behind, a dark blue. What if somethin' were _broken_?

He reached out to touch somethin', anythin', but was too afraid. Merle weren't _movin_'.

Merle couldn't be, not him. He _needed_ him. Mama were already _gone_ and if he were left _alone _with daddy he wouldn't be able-

"Thought I told ya," he coughed hard, blood comin' up, "ta run." Daryl almost choked on his breath he sucked it in so fast. He saw Merle lookin' at him, one eye surrounded by thick red lines, like it had blood drippin' from the center.

"Merle, I-I, daddy was-he was killin' ya-" Merle raised his hand, bout an inch off the ground. Couldn't go no further.

"Fuck." Merle smiled, or winced, Daryl couldn't tell which.

"Ain't nobody," he wheezed, "can _kill_ me but me."

Daryl felt the tears slide down his cheeks and onta Merle's broken chest.

* * *

**Reviews mean **_**a lot.**_

**A/N: **The Dixons visited me in the shower…_I wish_. But that was there this was _born_. Hope it weren't too much for ya. Obviously mama died not too long ago at this point.

Thanks for being here, with the Dixons and I.


	15. Wish

**EM: **Hey guys, thanks for the love. This chapter is easy on the emotions, I swear…or maybe it isn't. **Chemical Ghost**, welcome! Your review was so wonderful! And I'd like to thank **reedus fan, witnesstoitall** and **GhostWritter84, **this time, for your continued love. I can't respond to every review, but to everyone, thank you for constantly coming back to me and my Dixons.

**Disclaimer**: Dixons belong to Kirkman and AMC.

* * *

Wish

It was quiet. No birds, no Merle, not even Chief was out here with him. He was gettin' old now, and his legs weren't able to take him far. Now he just liked to sit and watch him round the house, keepin' an eye on him from his favorite spot on the porch. Daryl wondered when his day would be.

So tonight were different.

Weren't nothin' but the dark and the stars to keep him company.

But he liked that.

Merle was gone again. Off doin' whatever the hell it was that Merle did when he left. He could still see the back of Merle's jacket, those damn white wings flapping in his memory, as the bike rumbled in the distance.

Merle weren't no angel, so he couldn't understand why the jacket kept movin' in his mind. Maybe a fallen angel or somethin', a devil in disguise. But he weren't no angel that was fer damn certain.

"_I'll be back baby brother." He watched Merle hop onto the bike from the porch with Chief. _

"_When?" Merle didn't bother to give him an answer. Just checked his bag, and pulled his leg over the side once he was satisfied. He turned to Daryl and smiled. _

"_Don't burn the house down while I'm gone."_

He'd a knocked Merle's teeth in if he'd a been around for it, talkin' bout their Ma like that. Course, Merle didn't treat Ma any better than he did when he were a kid so it didn't matter.

He rubbed his back up against the tree, scratchin' at a spot.

Bein' out here, in the quiet and the dark, underneath the stars, brought up a whole lot a memories bout Ma that he didn't _want_ to remember. He glanced up between the branches, finding the sky blinkin' at him.

"_See that boy?" She pointed to the sky, her cigarette pinched between her fingers glowing cherry red. The sky was black except that it was dotted with little bright lights, winkin' at him. _

"_What are they mama?" She snorted and took a drag, breathin' deep. _

"_Those, stupid, are stars." He didn't like it when mama called him stupid. She called him stupid a lot. _

"_Why they called stars mama?" She took another drag of her cigarette and lay back on the ground. _

"_I don't know," she snapped. "Ain't that why I send ya to school?" Mama had been in a bad mood lately. Probably coz daddy was in a bad mood and takin' it out on her. She had some bruises on her face to show for it. _

_Mama always snuck outta the house at night if she could, to lay out and look at the sky, to look at the stars. _

_She wanted to get away from daddy just as much as he did, he 'spected. _

He'd started doin' the same thing when he was a kid. When shit got crazy with the ol' man and he got the chance, he wouldn't wait for no invite. Didn't wait for the ol' man to come lookin' fer him. He got the fuck outta the house. Sometimes he found Ma out there, smokin' her slims, and drinkin' her wine. Sometimes she weren't doin' neither, but watchin' the sky.

And sometimes he just found her sleepin'. Those times he would just watch her.

He always loved his Ma when she were sleepin'. She always looked peaceful then, like nothin' in the world were wrong. Those times, he could believe, could think that maybe, just maybe she could _love_ him.

_She sighed. "They ain't stars anyway," she said softly. Daryl looked at mama then, wondering why she'd gone all soft-like. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard her voice like that. He could hear her screamin', cryin'. But not soft, almost…sweet. It made him sad. _

"_What do _you_ think they are mama?" She didn't answer him at first. She took a last drag on her cigarette and tossed it. She spread her arms to the sides, runnin' her fingers through the grass and closed her eyes. _

"_Wishes," she whispered. _

Daryl never knew what his Ma was talkin' bout then, but he started to wonder as time passed. Started to wonder what his Ma wished for.

Did she wish she could have left that house a long fuckin' time ago? Did she want the ol' man to die? Did _she _want to die, like she had? Was it planned? Did she wish to take him and Merle away, away from that fuckin' house, away from the ol' man and never look back?

Hell, he sho u ld a known better.

It was too good to think that Ma would have wanted anything for them. Ma prob'ly wanted to get the fuck out and 'ave a better life of her own. Somethin' without kids and a fucked up husband.

Daryl took a look at the stars, those same stars he and his Ma would look at when he was young. He could still remember the wish he'd made when he'd been out there with her.

_Wishes. What did he wish for? He wanted to know what mama wished for but he didn't know how to ask without makin' her mad. _

_So what did he wish for? _

_He looked up at the sky, and found one star in particular, one _wish._ And he knew what he wanted. _

'_I wish mama would love Merle.'_

_Coz mama, he knew she didn't love Merle. Coz she didn't. She didn't talk to him, didn't touch him, didn't look at him, didn't even go in the same _room_ as him. She avoided him, like he was some sickness. And he hated seein' that. _

_Coz he knew that Merle loved mama. And all Merle wanted was fer mama to love him back. _

_And that's what he wished._

Now, that wish seemed stupid. Coz his Ma woulda never a loved Merle. She was selfish, stupid and a ignorant bitch. All she'd ever done was give them life and then treat them like they were shit on her shoe.

But lookin' at Merle now, maybe, if he'd a just had some damn love, maybe he'd a been different. _Maybe_ he'd be…

He didn't even know what Merle would be. _Nice?_ That was fuckin' priceless.

The stars blinked, shinin' brighter.

He couldn't deny though, that he still wished that Ma had tried to love Merle.

Coz Merle, even though he never admitted it, would deny it til his fuckin' death, had _always_ loved their Ma. No matter what she had done.

* * *

**Reviews mean **_**a lot.**_

**A/N: **Nicer than the last one. Had to catch up on real life this past weekend so that's why there hasn't been an update. Also, I'm going to FL this coming weekend, so I'm going to try for one more update before that. Can't guarantee anything though.

Did I mention how much I love you guys?

Thanks for being here with Daryl and I.


	16. Breathe

**EM**: I'm so glad ya'll are here. Your reviews continue to make me feel like this is always the most wonderful thing to be doing. **Welcome Effigy and Junamrsgrl!**

**Disclaimer**: Dixons belong to Kirkman and AMC.

**Warning**: Vulgarity and Derogative Language

* * *

Breathe

"Let's _go_ Daryl!" He didn't want to go. He hated goin' if he was fuckin' honest. But he weren't gonna tell Merle that.

"Come on baby brother. What are ya, a pussy?" Merle said that every time. Truth was, maybe he _were _a pussy.

He took a long, hard look at the run-down building. Beat-up old pickups parked round it in any fashion, a few bikes scattered about. He'd parked his pickup away from the others, coz chances were a fight would happen, and it'd be tossed outside.

Usually somebodies truck got a fuckin' beat down along with the sonuvabitch who couldn't keep his fuckin' mouth shut.

Usually that sonuvabitch were his brother.

"Quit your fuckin' laggin' Daryl. I got me some fresh ass in there, just callin' Merle's name." He smirked suggestively but Daryl didn't respond to it.

Goin' drinkin' with Merle never went well. It always ended in either a fight with some fuckin' no good, ass-over-backwards hick, or he got to drive Merle home with some hussy. Or two.

And he hated both of those options.

So he stuck his hands in his pockets and trudged his way to the backhills bar.

Merle was already inside, comfortable at a table with two women who couldn't seem to keep their eyes, or their hands, off a him.

He couldn't never understand that. Merle weren't nothin' ta look at. Hell, _he_ weren't nothin' ta look at either. The ol' man had made damn sure a that. But Merle, it was like they were _drawn _to him. Like there was some fuckin' charm he'd fuckin' missed.

Maybe, that's how the ol' man had snagged his Ma. Somebody shoulda warned the world bout the dangers of a Dixon.

Women were fools. Thinkin' theys was somethin' they weren't. Just coz Merle said he could do this, or he pretended to be that, didn't mean shit.

Or maybe, they didn't fuckin' care. Maybe, they were just as fucked up as Merle. Maybe that was the draw between them. He pretended to be somethin' he weren't, and they did the same.

He thought it was all a bunch of bullshit.

All that fuckin' lyin'.

"Hey Dixon." He didn't even bother turnin' round. He knew who it was.

He felt a hand slide up his arm, and he couldn't help the involuntary chill that snaked up his spine.

_Pussy_.

He took a deep drink of his beer and turned to face her. She'd worn her brown hair spilling round her face. Somethin' told him it was 'sposed to make her look _sexy_ but he just couldn't see it. It just made him nervous. What was he supposed to do with all that fuckin' hair?

"See Merle's got the catch of the day." She flipped her hair back, and sat at the extra stool at his table, sittin' close. Her eyes never left Merle and his company as she took a drink from her beer, somethin' foreign. He didn't even know they sold that shit here. She smelled flowery, strong. It was off for a place like this. He shifted away from her without moving the chair.

She didn't seem to notice.

"When ya gonna take me home Dixon?" And that was where it started. When he felt like he couldn't fuckin' breath. Like he had to get the fuck outta there.

She never gave him any damn _space_. Didn't she know that he didn't fuckin' _like_ her? Wasn't it obvious?

"Come on Dixon," she whispered, running her fingers over his arm again, slinking closer. The smell was overwhelming. "Take me home tonight." Her hair was all over his shoulder, her body pressed against his side, and he could _feel_ her, feel _everything_.

"Fuckin' get _off_ Lanie." He jumped from the stool, and it crashed to the floor. She didn't look surprised. He'd told her no before, but she'd kept on comin', like it didn't matter what he wanted.

She stalked closer, hand on his chest. She brought her head next to his, whispering in his ear, hot breath washin' over his neck. He could smell the booze, heavy on her now.

"I want you Dixon," and her other hand trailed down his stomach, over his belt, toward the front of his pants.

He'd never wanted to hit a woman before. Never _thought _bout hittin' no woman 'fore. But _now_ he was beginnin' to think it was as good a time as any to fuck any kind of moral law that said you couldn't.

"Fuckin' get off a me-" and just as he was bout to shove Lanie off she stumbled backwards and into Merle.

He chuckled, holding her arm tight. "Look here filly." He pulled her close, grabbin' her ass. She continued to eye-fuck him, ignoring what Merle was doin'.

"Ma brother here, _Darylena,_ he's a lil' bitch." He didn't miss the condescending look that Merle gave him. "He can't _perform_, if ya know what I mean," he whispered into her ear, through all that hair. Her face turned and Daryl backed away, towards the door. Now she started smilin' at him, in a different way. And he knew that he didn't want to stick round anymore.

"You a fuckin' faggot, Dixon?" Daryl felt his face heat up, and he knew he couldn't escape this one. He'd never been with a woman before, never tried before. And he'd been attracted to none a the skanks here in town coz a exactly what they were; skanks.

And Merle, he didn't do nothin' to defend him. "What you want, sweetcheeks, is some a Merle. He's got _exactly_," and Merle grabbed himself and pulled Lanie against him in the same motion, "what you want."

Daryl couldn't watch it anymore. Couldn't stand by and let himself be _humiliated_.

He ran from the bar, laughter following him.

And it wasn't til he felt fresh air on his face and took in a deep breath of warm, spring, Georgia mountain air that he finally started to feel like he could _breathe_ again. Like he finally felt like himself again. Maybe he weren't meant to find no woman. Maybe nobody were meant for him. Maybe_ he_ weren't meant for nobody.

Maybe that weren't so bad. He were fucked up anyway, scarred, screwed in the head, wouldn't know how to make nobody happy anyway coz he sure as hell didn't know how to make hisself happy.

So, fuck those women. And fuck Merle.

And this time, he decided _not_ to wait around for'im.

He could walk his ass home.

* * *

**Reviews mean **_**a lot.**_

**A/N: **I haven't broached the Dixons and women because, well, it's as awkward for me as it is for Daryl.

**Also**, I've got another _Maryl_ in the works. It's...really dark. And it's my own piece I've thinkin' on for a while. Somethin' that makes my own heart bleed inside. I'm real anxious to get it to you guys, but I really need it to be _just right_. So be on the lookout. I'm hopin' for next week, after I get back from FL.

Love you all. Thanks for being here with us.


	17. Blood

**EM: **I'm back from FL and I missed you guys so much! Just so you all know this is a doozy (I had to slap a warning on it).

**Disclaimer: **Merle Dixon belongs to Kirkman and AMC.

**Warning: **Language and Miscarriage/Abortion

* * *

Blood

"Ma!"

Silence. Fuckin' nobody anywhere. The radio was playin' in the background. The back door hung wide open, the screen slightly ajar. He could hear the buzzin' of a fly round his head. Pissed him off.

Weren't no Daryl followin' at his heels. He prob'ly should go lookin' fer him, him bein' a kid 'n all. But he didn't wanta. The ol' man was out doin' fuck knows what and he sure as hell weren't lookin' fer him. And Ma, he didn't know where she were at.

Fer once he was by hisself, exactly what he woulda wanted. But fer once, he actually_ wanted_ somebody round.

"MA!"

_Thump_

"The hell?" Nobody'd answered his damn call so nobody shoulda been home. But he knew what he'd heard.

Somebody was upstairs.

Nobody was _ever_ allowed upstairs, unless it was by the ol' man's say so, or it was a cold day in hell. He was waitin' on that cold day in hell.

"Fuckin' coons comin' inta mah house, touchin' mah shit," he growled. He picked up the double barrel shotgun that the ol' man left sittin' by the recliner and stomped his way up the stairs, makin' it known he were comin'.

"You better fuckin' run coz Merle's fuckin' comin' now!"

He pushed the ol' man's door open slightly, not wantin' to disturb it, not wantin' him to _know_ that he'd been up there when he heard a groan comin' from the bathroom.

"I'ma comin' fer you, ya cock suckin' thieves." He went for the door and opened it.

But couldn't.

"Think ya can lock _me_ out?" He slammed a heavy boot against the door, hearing the cheap plaster give way slightly.

"No…" He paused, leaning forward to press his ear against the door. Was that…

"Ma?" There was some shufflin' and another _thump_.

He jiggled the door handle again. "Open the fuckin' door Ma."

But he didn't wait for an answer. He slammed his foot into the door again, and again, and again.

"Git'way Merle." He heard his name slip through his Ma's voice, quiet, something unlike her and then the door crashed open. He pushed his way through into the small, yellowing closet of a bathroom and froze.

There she was, curled up on the floor in the fetal position; head under the sink and back against the tub. But it wasn't the way she was lyin'. No he'd seen her like that plenty of fuckin' times 'fore. When she was piss ass drunk and couldn't get off the toilet. When she'd taken a dip into the ol' man's stash just to fuck wit'em. When the ol man had beaten her black and blue and Merle didn't know what was ass from elbow.

No. It was the blood, poolin' round her legs that sent him spinnin'. Harsh red against the tacky yellow. Weren't nothin' brighter than that damn yeller bathroom but now? Now he couldn't stop starin' at that fuckin' pool of blood startin' to thicken round his Ma's legs, round her…

"Ma?" She didn't move at first. So he propped the shotgun against the doorframe and kneeled in front a her.

And he couldn't believe what he was fuckin' seein. This was somethin' he couldn't, _wouldn't_ never forget. The color of the blood. Ma's pale legs covered in red, naked. Her pale blue shirt, hangin' low off her neck, sweat beadin' on her chest. And her face.

Gaunt, pale, distant.

She was _crying_.

"Ma…" he whispered, reachin' out to touch her.

"Don't touch me boy." She curled her fists against her chest, her legs pullin' tighter against her belly. He looked down and realized he'd stepped in the blood. The blood.

His _Ma's _blood.

"What the fuck happened to ya Ma?" He reached out again, just barely grazin' her shoulder when her eyes snapped open, glazed, and her arm snaked out, slappin' his hand away.

"I says don you touch me!"

Her shriek pierced his skull, bouncin' around the walls of the tiny bathroom. He looked her up and down then, checkin' for the wound.

He weren't gonna let Ma _suffer_.

But he shoulda known. Coz it was right there. In his fuckin' face.

The blood. Her legs. How she weren't wearin' no fuckin' clothes 'cept the shirt on her back. He'd never seen so much a his Ma in his life, 'cept fer maybe when he were a kid and he didn't remember none a that.

And there it was. On her legs. No, _between _her legs.

Either the ol' man had done a real number on her, or this was…

"Pa's been out all day." He worked it out in his mind, tryin' to work round what it really was he was lookin' at.

Ma's eyes opened again, glarin' at him.

"Thought I told ya to _git_," she snarled, as a tear slipped down her cheek. Her hands reached down, shakin', to cover herself up.

He didn't know what ta do. So he stood, and turned to go.

But it was _Ma_. She was lyin' on that floor, bleedin', naked, _broken_.

And he couldn't leave her like that. Not Ma.

He turned back round and knelt next to her, arms reachin' underneath her. Her eyes flew open and she started scratchin' and hollerin' and whalin' on him. But he just scooped her up, one arm behind her back, the other under her thin legs, and he picked her up, pullin' her against his chest.

And as soon as her head fell against him, she started cryin' again, and she wasn't hittin' on him no more. She was grippin' his shirt tight, and buryin' her face in his chest.

He carried her outta that bathroom, her legs swingin' against his side.

He swore right then he would never tell nobody this, not _nobody_. Not the ol' man, not Daryl. He wouldn't speak of it, never again. Coz thinkin' on it, he could feel a hole openin' up in his chest. A hole that he'd never admit existed.

"I won't never forgive you boy," she whispered against him.

And he 'spected she never would.

* * *

**Reviews mean **_**a lot.**_

**A/N: **Oh, did I miss you guys. Really, what I missed were my Dixon boys. Seriously, not writing them for 5 days was **killing **me. But wedding duties called. Merle is young here, and so is Daryl (like 18 and 5 respectively).

**In the meantime**, I've also posted the first chapter to a _Derle_ fic titled Always. Dark, tragic and angsty. Do I bring you anything else?

Thanks for being here with us!


	18. Jed

**EM: **My story, Always, was a smash. Think I ripped your hearts into little pieces. Good. That was the plan. Haha, anyway, hope you take to this chapter just as you have the others. It's long too.

**Disclaimer: **Daryl Dixon belongs to Kirkman and AMC.

**Warning: **Non-Graphic Child Abuse

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Jed

He couldn't find Chief. Weren't in the house, weren't on the porch, in the back or in the woods.

He was gone, somewhere. Just up and left.

Daryl was gettin' fuckin' tired of the people in his life fuckin' leavin' without sayin' shit 'bout it.

Merle never told him where he was goin', or _when_. He'd wake up 'n he was gone. His Ma just up and killed herself. And he didn't fuckin' care bout the ol' man but he'd still been _there_. At least he weren't _alone_.

And now Chief was pullin' the same fuckin' shit!

"Screw you Chief!" He'd been walkin' down the dirt road, callin' out Chief's name, hopin' to god the beast hadn't been hit by no car, and prayin' that nobody decided to take him in as their own. Chief was a damn good dog, and he'd be _damned_ if anybody decided they were gonna take him. They were gonna have a fuckin' _fight_ if they anybody thought they keepin' his Chief.

'Specially, since folks round here, got it in their heads that they could just do whatever the hell they wanted with their pets.

"Chief! Ya ol' bastard." Nothin'. He didn't come runnin' round the corner, weren't no answerin' bark.

"CHIEF!"

"Shut the hell up Dixon!" They didn't live too close to call'em neighbors, but he'd been up and down that dirt road callin' Chief's name enough times to wake the fuckin' dead.

"Fuck you Billy Bob!" He followed with the gesture and kept walkin'. Kickin' at the dirt, feelin' more and more like Chief had finally just left him for good.

"Fuck you Chief," he muttered.

_Awoo._

He looked up, the bay of Chief unmistakable. And he took off runnin' down the road, pumpin' his legs hard, burnin' his lungs. For a Coon, Chief never bayed, unless his nose told him too. And Chief hardly ever used his nose. He was the laziest Coon he'd ever met.

_Awoo, Awooo, Awooooo_

"Chief!" He turned round the corner of a split level house, Janie Thompson stickin' her head out, smoke in hand, to see what was goin' on, when he slid to his knees.

He heard her laughin' as he rose to his feet and kept runnin'.

Chief's bayin' kept gettin' louder and louder as he reached the end of the road, cuttin' into the end of the block, where the woods met ol' man Garth's house.

"Tha' yur mutt boy?" Garth asked from his chair on the porch. He was a steely old man, with little hair, squitin' eyes, and bony hands. But he found he kind of liked him.

"Yes sir," he said, hopin' to make this quick. He could still hear Chief, bayin' loud.

"Shut it tha fuck up, boy. Teach tha dog sum damn manners." It was the tone a his voice. It weren't mean, it weren't condescending. It were just tellin' him. He nodded his head, and then added "yes sir," again before he got yelled at too.

Ol' Garth waved him off with a bony hand. He took off before he changed his mind.

Chief was still bayin' and he followed the sound till he had to slow down 'fore he fucked himself up either trippin' over the trees, or gettin' whipped in the face by branches.

And then he found him, still bayin' his fool head off.

"Chief, I'm here dumbass. Knock it off."

Chief didn't come to him though, just stood guard where he was.

Near a boy.

"The fuck?" He took a step forward, and the boy jerked, his body startin' to quiver.

So he stood where he was and inspected the boy. He was just a runt of a kid, thinner than he shoulda been. The mop of brown hair hung long over his face, shadin' his green eyes.

And there were the bruises.

"Look kid," he said, bendin' at the knees, tryin' hard not to grit his teeth against the anger he felt wellin' up at the sight of him, "I ain't gonna hurt ya." Chief reached forward and licked the boy on the face.

He took a breath, releasin' that tension and chuckled. Just like Chief to find something broken that needed fixin'. He wouldn't find no 'coons, or rabbits, or foxes. No, Chief had to find some kid who prob'ly got fucked up by his ol' man.

_Just like me._

He brushed it off, fast. Didn't need no bad memories resurfacin'.

"Ol' Chief, here, he's a good dog, ain't he," he said, sittin' down, crossin' his legs. The boy didn't say nothin', didn't move, just kept watchin' him.

"My brother, he got'im for me, couple years back." Chief lay down at the boy's feet, restin' his head over them. Daryl chuckled.

"Chief don't usually take to nobody like that. You musta done somethin' right fer'im."

The boy's eyes narrowed and he curled inward, deeper. "I ain't done nothin' right fer _nobody_," he muttered darkly. Daryl sighed, ran a hand through his hair.

All a this, was more familiar than Daryl wanted it to be. And he didn't want to deal with it, but Chief had brought him out here. And when Chief did somethin' you paid attention.

"Look kid, Chief," he paused searchin' for the right words to say, "he's a good dog. But he don't care 'bout nobody but me. And I ain't lyin' when I say that." He looked the kid in the face when he said that so that he knew he weren't.

"When Chief here finds somethin' worth lookin' after, well then, I gotta wonder." He reached forward, slowly, and rubbed Chief behind the ears. Chief gave a low moan and licked his hand.

"Gotta wonder if I ain't gotta follow his lead." He looked the boy in the face, holdin' that fearful gaze with his own. There was so much pain behind it, so much that he could recognize it scared the shit outta him. He'd give Chief an earful later for this.

"And if you knew a Coon, you'd know it weren't the master who did the leadin'. It's the Coon. And Chief here says, you's worth lookin' after."

For a minute, he didn't think the boy would take it, that he had scared him off. And he wouldn't a blamed him. When he was his age, he never woulda trusted no man other than Merle ta look after him. Men were fucked in the head, and you never knew how that was gonna hurt ya in the end.

And then the tears slipped down his cheeks, quietly, and he reached out a hand to rub Chief on the head.

"My pa," he said softly, burying his face in his knees. _Fuck. Why's it always gotta be our pop's doin' the worst number on us, when they's should be the one's takin' care a us?_

Daryl didn't know how the fuck to handle cryin' so he just let the boy do it. But Chief knew what to do. He rose to his haunches, and burrowed his head between the boy's arms, into a hug. And the boy, he took it. Buried his face into Chief's neck, snifflin'.

Daryl cleared his throat roughly.

"Look here, kid, cryin' ain't gonna help shit."

"Jed," he whispered. Familiar name, but he couldn't place yet where.

Daryl eyed the boy and Chief, wonderin' what the next move was. He didn't know what the fuck he was 'sposed ta do. Hell, he mighta been a kid once, but that was short-lived. The ol' man never let'im be a kid, never.

Maybe, he had more in common with Jed than he wanted to admit.

"Look, my ol' man…" he rubbed the back of his head, hated talkin' bout him, but figurin' he needed to say somethin'. "My ol' man's _gone_ now. And my brother, he ain't here right now either. Got a place, down the road…" He left it open, hated the idea of bringin' the kid inta that place, but knowin' it was just what he mighta needed. Didn't look like he had no older brothers to keep _him_ safe so, maybe, it was his turn to do somethin' for somebody.

The boy, Jed, looked up, eyes rimmed red, a little bit of hope burnin' behind those greens. He stood up, as the boy cringed, involuntarily.

Daryl hated that. Hated the way the boy couldn't help the look of fear that crossed his face every time he moved too close, or jerked too fast, or said somethin' too harsh. Coz he knew _exactly _what that was like. So he ignored it.

"Ain't got shit to eat, but I'll figure somethin' out. Maybe Chief here'll acutally find us somethin' fer once," and he gave Chief a look.

And then, he finally got one. A little curl at the corner of his lip. Daryl let himself smile then too.

"Come on kid, 'fore we waste anymore daylight." He walked off, whistlin' for Chief. He felt the dog com paddin' at his heels, hesitant.

And then he heard the soft pad a the kid's footsteps, followin' at his heels. He glanced back, noticin' the limp in his left leg, the bruises extended down the calf, and more bruises all over the right side of his face. He turned away before the kid could see his face. It took everything to keep him from screamin', from hittin' somethin'.

Boy didn't deserve that. Nobody deserved that. He remembered the times when his ol' man had left him lookin' all patchy in discoloration, his body mottled. Some days he couldn't walk straight. Some days he couldn't see straight. Most days, he just wished he were dead.

He wished Jed didn't feel that way now. He hoped that fer today, the boy could feel somethin' _different_.

"Who…" Jed didn't finish but he knew what the kid wanted.

"Daryl. Name's Daryl." He looked back, wavin' a hand forward. "Let's git the fuck outta here."

And Chief bayed in agreement.

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**Reviews are a Muses best friend.**

**A/N: **Sorry this one took a while. Couldn't decide where I wanted to go, Always took over, and _then_ I went a started something new again. The Long Road. Daryl and Judith, some years after Woodbury. My _JuDaryl_.

Not sure what you'll all think of Jed. But with my new story The Long Road, I've always wondered how Daryl was so _good_ round kids (especially that scene, where he just _handles_ Lil Ass Kicker. _Shit)_. Well, now I'm goin' to be explorin' that with Jude, and with Jed.

Thanks for being here with us!


	19. Quiet

**EM**: Some of you took to Jed quite nicely. I promise, he has a purpose. Also, I'm reachin' the 20 mark. 20 Chapters…that's a fuckin' lot. I've never had that many before. Just so's ya know, 20 is gonna be _special_. And almost 100 reviews!? God you guys are amazing.

**Warning**: For Severe Physical and Verbal Child Abuse.

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Quiet

"Fuckin' shit-for-brains!" He threw him against the counter, the cabinet doors beneath crackin' from the force of his weight.

"Don't listen fer shit!" A slap to the side of the head, sendin' him spinnin'.

"You ain't worked a day in yur life 'n all yous do is whine!" He grabbed him by the shoulders, and tossed him over the kitchen table, the yellow plaster flakin' underneath him. Pain flared up his back.

"You dumber 'n a block of concrete 'n you been goin' ta school yur whole fuckin' life!" He punched him in the leg, the closest thing he could reach.

"Where tha fucks yur voice now ya little pussy!" A blow to the hip, pain shootin' up the whole side of his body.

"From the day yous was born, you weren't worth _nothin_!" A blow to the chest, cuttin' off all the air he had in him.

"Yous a waste of my goddamn air!" And then a final blow, right to the face.

Everything went black. Could barely hear his daddy's voice beyond the ringin' in his head.

Everything _ached_.

He couldn't rememberin' doin' nothin' to deserve this. He'd just been sittin' on the back steps, shapin' a block of wood into a star. Nothin' fancy, nothin' special.

Just somethin' for his mama.

And then daddy'd just come slammin' out the door, feet poundin', breath heavin', and hauled him up by the neck, tossin' him inta the house.

"_Ain't got yur spineless brotha here ta take care of ya now, do ya?" He said, his whiskey breath washin' over him. _

_And Daryl felt a shiver of fear run up his spine. _

Merle'd left, for whatever reason. He didn't know when he was comin' back, but right then, in that moment, he wished he were here.

_Gotta stand up fer yourself baby brother. Merle ain't always gonna be there._

But he didn't know how. Didn't know how to face a man who made everything black and dark and twisted. Didn't know how to face a man who _controlled_ him.

He sure as hell didn't know how Merle did it. Course, Merle was a hell a lot bigger'n him. And Merle sure as hell never took no shit from nobody. Not even their daddy.

He cracked an eye open, and there she was.

_Mama_.

Watchin' through the doorway, the cherry-orange glow of her cigarette glowin' bright, lightin' up her face just a little.

"Fuck you lookin' at boy?" Daddy was right by his ear, but he didn't want to look. Just kept watchin' his mama, her eyes never leavin' his.

"I says, _fuck you lookin' at boy!_" His fist came down against his neck, and he felt the air stop in his throat.

He choked, scramblin' for air, for _anythin'_. He grabbed at his neck, clutchin' at it as if that were gonna do somethin'.

"Earl." Daddy looked up, eyes narrowin' at the sight of mama.

"Don't need you yet, bitch." She took a drag on her cigarette, the glow goin' bright red. She took her time answerin' him; all the while Daryl kept chokin' and wheezin'.

"Jus' leave'im Earl. If he ain't worth yur time, then why ya fuckin' bother?" Earl grunted, and looked down at Daryl, eyes narrowing dangerously.

He spat on him, and threw one last blow at his side, right above his kidneys. Fuckin' _hurt_.

He recoiled from the pain, doublin' up, still tryin' to breathe as his daddy stalked outta the kitchen. He felt his eyes burn, from the pain, from daddy, from _everything_.

Mama walked over to him, slowly, takin' another drag on her cigarette.

She reached forward, and he couldn't help the flinch.

But she only ran her hand through his hair, and started to hum, some soft melody that he didn't know.

"Jus' breathe baby," she muttered, bendin' over him and wrappin' her other arm over his shoulders.

She smelled like smoke and cheap wine, but she was soft and she was holdin' him for the first time in his whole fuckin' life.

And so he curled on his side, on that cheap fuckin' table, and inta his mama, lettin' the tears fall.

Merle woulda been _pissed_ if he knew he were cryin'. And his daddy woulda beat the ever livin' shit outta him if he came in here and saw what was goin' on.

But the feel a his mama, pressed up against him, holdin' him like he were _precious_, made none a that matter.

He felt the air come slowly rushin' back into his lungs, takin' gulps a it when he could. His chest burned with the pain of daddy's fists and the need to _breathe._

And the tears fell harder, burnin' his eyes. He couldn't help the sob that broke through him.

Mama's hand was on his back, rubbin' in circles. She was still hummin', her breathe washin' over his neck.

"Quiet now, baby." And those words, that _voice_ she had, so soft, so gentle was enough to make his chest hurt in all different kinds a ways. He'd never heard that voice before, and was soothin' his achin' head.

Then her hands were around him, pullin' him against her, liftin' him off the table. He didn't think she could lift him, she was so small, so fragile.

But she did. She pulled his weak, broken body against hers, wrappin' his arms round her neck, his legs round her waist, still hummin' that tune, and then walked out the back door, his head tucked against her neck, the sobs comin' softer now. He grabbed her tight then, never wanted to let go.

He'd never thought she would _hold_ him like that. _Never_.

"Quiet now," she hushed, her arms tightenin' round him, as the darkness surrounded them, takin'im far from that house, from that pain, from _everything_ to a place where he could rest in her arms. The tears still fell unchecked, runnin' across her bare shoulder. He was still tryin' ta breathe, tryin' to pull the air into his lungs. But mama was lullin' him into a place where he could sleep, and it didn't matter that daddy had just beaten him so _bad_ that his body ached in every place, and Merle weren't here to help him, and that he were _weak_, unable to do anythin' bout it.

Coz _Mama_ were _here_.

"_Quiet_," she breathed.

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**Reviews for the Muse. **

**A/N: **I'm startin' to wonder if I shouldn't make this story Rated M instead of T…it's really very graphic in some cases. Especially this chapter. I hope I don't bring up any bad memories for anyone. I'm no stranger to abuse, so I know what it can be like to read something and be reminded of painful things. Bringing me back to just how wonderful you all really are. For stickin' with me. Sometimes, the Dixons and I, take journeys _together_. So while you're here with them, you're also here with _me_.

And that means a lot.


	20. Burn

**EM: **This hurt too much for me to even have anything left to say.

**Warning**: **Mature **for **Non-Graphic Child Abuse**, **Domestic Violence**, and **Pain**

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Burn

She always loved her boys. Never thought things'd turn out the ways they did. But a woman don't always know how shits gonna go. She marries a man, thinkin' he's gonna do right by her, treat her with some goddamn respect even if he had one helluva temper. And the next ya knows it, he's gone 'n got ya in a choke hold, _demandin'_ yous fuck him right then and there. Puttin' that dick wherever he wanted.

He regretted _that_ when he got a chunk missin' fer his shit. She regretted it too after he beat her fer it.

Man never gave her what she wanted. It was all about Earl. Earl wants fuckin' food. Earl wants to fuck. Earl wants to git fuckin' high. Mostly, Earl wanted to git high.

But then he started fuckin' thems other women, like she didn't know what the fuck he were doin' all those nights, out by his self.

He thought she was a fuckin' bimbo.

Man was fuckin' _wrong._

Weren't till she had Merle that he started bein' more than just a fuckin' sonuvabitch. Man had a _problem_.

She knew she shouldn'ta had no kids wit'im. Shoulda _left _his ass long ago. But sometimes, ya just don't know how. Sometimes, ya just git in yur head that this is what ya _deserve._

Then ya find out ya pregnant a all things. Got a baby on tha way. Then yur stuck. Ain't got no fuckin' way ta take care a the little shit, coz ya got married fer a reason. 'N bein' pregnant ain't no fuckin' walk on the rich side. Can't drink, can't fuckin' _smoke. _Shit, ya know ya need ta smoke _sometimes_. She couldn't deny it, had to slip one ev'ry once in a while.

But the moment she laid them eyes on her boy Merle, she knew _she _was in trouble.

Merle was like her light in that darkness. He were those stars way up the sky. She knew when he planted them blue-gray eyes on her, she were lost.

He was _her_ baby.

She 'n him, they was inseparable fer the first few years a his life. Boy was 'tached ta her hip, ta her leg, ta her tit. He knew _'xactly_ who it were that loved him.

And Earl, nothin' escaped that man's eye.

"_Tha's a boy." Merle reached forward, eyes sparklin' bright, as he took hold a his mama's hand. She was keepin' him steady, as he tried to keep his legs upright, movin' them one step at a time. Boy'd been crawlin' all over tha damn place, slow ta walk he was, 'n she wanted him ta start walkin'. Boy's gotta know how ta run, if ever he needed ta. _

"_My boy's first steps," she said proudly, her eyes burnin', cigarette danglin' from her lip. Her boy was tough, and he was persistent. Nothin' was gonna stop him. _

"_Ma," he bubbled out, squeezin' her finger tight. _

"_What the fuck is goin' on 'ere?" She froze, didn't fuckin' move. Merle didn't know the difference so he just kept walkin', big ol' small tooth grin on his face. She wanted to push him on, smile back, but Earl's presence, his shadow coverin' her, kept her from doin' so. _

"_Hell you doin' bitch?" _

_She turned back, keepin' her eyes low, avoidin' as much trouble as she could. She'd managed ta keep Merle 'way from Earl for now, but it was gettin' harder, the bigger he got. _

"_Helpin' tha boy walk," she said slowly, as Merle fell inta her, a small giggle escapin' him. She gripped him tight, foldin' him inta her. Smoke drifted up into her eyes, shadin' Earl. _

_She saw his eyes darken, his fingers twitch. _

"_Boy don't need no fuckin' help," he said, all quiet-like, dangerous. She knew what that voice meant, what Earl was capable of when he was pissed. And she knew he was pissed._

"_How's he gonna be a man if yous always coddlin' him!" She could see it comin' from a mile away. His hand, sweepin' down. _

_Earl hit her so hard, she crashed to the floor, Merle still in her arms. He started screamin', thrashin' in her arms, as her eyes watched that cherry glow of the Virginia Slim burn bright against the floor, rollin' away. _

"_Fuckin' boy's gonna learn how ta be a man!" And then he did the one thing she'd never wanted ta happen. He grabbed Merle, hard coz he started screamin' even louder, and he pulled him outta her arms. Threw him under his arm and started walkin' outta the room. _

_She'd never heard Merle scream so loud 'fore, like his body was breakin'. _

"_Maaaa!" And she couldn't watch her boy be taken by that man. She rose to her feet and ran. _

_Ran and jumped on his back, wailin' on him and punchin' him and kickin'. Fuck if she were gonna let that sonuvabitch take her boy. _

_But he was too much. Too much man, too much muscle, too much fury._

_He dropped Merle, and turned on her. Grippin' her by the shoulders and tossin' her over them. She slammed into the floor, all the breath just knocked outta her. And he started beatin' her, kickin' her, spittin' on her. _

"_Fuck you Beth!" And she didn't move. Didn't say shit. Kept her eyes on Merle, but didn't let Earl see. She grunted each time those blows landed on her but she kept the screams hidden deep inside. _

_Coz she weren't gonna let Earl hurt her boy. Not while she had the fight in her. Not while she had strength ta keep that man on her. _

_And Merle, boy musta known, coz he didn't say a peep. Just kept his eyes on her too. _

Ever since that day, Merle'd been different. He'd not taken to her the same. Musta known exactly how Earl had treated her, deep down in tha smart head a his.

And that hurt her, deep down. Coz she loved her boy. Loved him like she loved nothin' else. But she couldn't do nothin' bout that now.

Coz Merle, he never looked at her the same. Never treated her like he used to. 'Specially since Earl never left him 'lone after that neither.

And it wasn't until Daryl came along, years later, that he took another turn; when she noticed that he was gonna be good for Daryl, no matter how rough he'd gotten in the years.

"_Where you at boy?" Annabeth could hear Earl, trompin' through the house, lookin' fer her boy. He'd done and got high, shovin' that needle up his fuckin' arm. She may a liked her wine and her cigarettes, too much fer her own good, but Earl had a way with things that he shouldn't. _

_She slipped through the house, quiet so that Earl wouldn't know she was comin'. She weren't sure where Merle were, but Daryl was in the livin' room, playin' real nice with a wooden teethin' set she was sure that Merle had made fer'im. She waited at the foot a the stairs, smoke driftin' round her, as she waited for Earl to give up on findin' him. She was _sure_ that Merle had taken off 'gain. Boy'd figured out not to be round less he needed too. _

_And then Earl was standin' in the livin' room, starin' down at Daryl. Daryl hadn't received so much attention from Earl 'fore so he just stared back, hands clappin' those wooden rings together, his big blue eyes wide. _

"_Fuck you lookin' at boy," Earl mumbled, almost slurrin'. She watched, in horror, hadn't thought it ever would happen 'gain, as Earl raised his hand 'gainst Daryl. _

_Daryl just kept starin'. _

_Beth started movin', knew she wouldn't make it ta stop Earl, but knew she had ta do somethin'. Couldn't let her _Daryl_ feel the pain a that man. Couldn't let another baby suffer. Lord knew she'd done some bad shit in her life, but she'd tried her best, she really did. _

_And then Merle came rushin' in through the back door, and slammed inta Earl. He weren't nothin' but a kid, still growin'. He may a been big fer his age, but that didn't make no difference 'gainst Earl. _

_They fell to the ground, crashin' inta the end table, the lamp fallin', breakin' inta pieces. _

_Daryl started cryin' then, not movin', fat tears just rollin' down his fat cheeks. _

"_Git down here bitch!" She took a breath, calmed her beatin' heart and took slow, steady steps into the room. If Earl knew she were upset 'bout what he was doin', he'd get a rise outta it. Would make shit worse than it already were.  
_

_He had Merle pinned beneath him. _

"_You shut that thing up 'fore I do it." She watched Merle, strugglin' beneath him, eyes glarin' at her. _

_There was so much hate in that look. And she knew then, that he hated her. Hated her fer bein' too weak to protect them against Earl. To take'em away. To be stronger. _

"_Let'im go Earl," she started, calm as she could. His eyes went dark, grip tightenin' on Merle's throat. She felt her chest clench as Merle, her _baby_, thrashed against his arms. _

"_Which you want, bitch? Dun think the brat can handle what I got, but if you wanna take that chance," he started, smilin' real evil like. _

_And the floor dropped out from under her feet. Merle's eyes watchin' her face, so _angry_, Daryl's red and puffy with tears, and Earl's empty, with a danger she'd not want to wish on _either_ a her boys. _

"_I can take it Earl," she said, squarin' her shoulders, but felt the shake in her legs. _

_Earl growled, "Dun want _you_ bitch! I says pick one a_ them."

_Pick one. Pick one a her boys to be beaten to near death, like it was a matter a choice between a apple an a orange. _

_And the _worst _part? She'd already chosen. The choice were simple. _

_Merle could handle it. _

_Coz her boy, her baby Merle, was tough, was persistent. He could handle _anythin'_. _

_She walked over and took Daryl into her arms, bouncin' him lightly, kissin' him on the side a the head. And she walked outta that room, out the back door, inta the woods, and didn't look back. _

_Even as Merle's screams echoed around her, breakin' everything inside a her. _

And now, she were alone, with Earl. Motherfuckin' dick was downstairs, knocked out on his ass. She knew he'd had some nasty pussy earlier. She'd heard the snap a the door closin' behind him.

Merle was gone, like he'd been fer some time. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen her boy, her sweet baby.

Course, she couldn't blame him, was even glad in some cases. He didn't 'ave ta face Earl long as he was gone.

And Daryl, her sweet angel, was out playin' wit some boys in the neighbahood. Wit Merle gone, he'd finally had some time ta hisself. She couldn't blame him neither fer findin' some time ta be a kid. That was a luxury nobody had in this house. She'd tried her best once Merle'd left, to protect him, like she used ta be able when she'd only had Merle. But the body got old, 'specially when ya got a man beaten on ya _all the time. _

Earl never seemed to get no weaker. No matter what he drank, or shot up, or did. Always seemed ta 'ave that strength bout him when he wanted to tear one a them up. And there were times, when she just couldn't protect her boy. Had to watch as Earl beat the ever-lovin' shit outta him. Those days, she felt like she could _die,_ as her chest was shredded, and she couldn't _breathe_ fer days.

And so there she sat, by _herself_, and Earl downstairs. She'd been drinkin' since she woke up, coz today, she didn't feel like the world wanted her. Wine bottles littered round her. Cigarette butts scattered 'bout. One cigarette burned against her finger. She only had a few left in the pack. The slims went fast, but she loved the taste a them. Loved the way that lady looked on tha front. Made her feel like she could be that one day, if she wanted.

_Elegant._

But, she knew she couldn't. Couldn't never be nothin' but the wife of a pissed off, drunken beater, who didn't 'ave a single bone a love in his body. And her boys, her sweet babies. She'd brought them inta this place, inta this _hell_.

She felt the tears slide down her cheeks, at the horror of that realization.

She'd given them this life.

Made it harder on them when she didn't even know she were. Couldn't make it better even when she were tryin'. All she'd done were fuck up, her entire life. Never made _her _mama happy. Never made _her_ daddy happy. And then she'd found Earl, like some bad case a the crabs that you couldn't just scratch.

No. She'd made her mess. Slept in her bed.

Now, she had to make it.

Wine wasn't all that good, so she didn't care as she let the bottle tip, and watched as the liquid poured out, over the floor, onta the clothes round her feet, and the papers that'd been discarded. Room was a fuckin' mess.

But she didn't care.

Coz Earl was gonna fuckin' _pay_. That man would fuckin' _burn_.

For all the shit he'd done ta her boys. The only thing she'd ever done right in tha world 'n he had ta go 'n make it wrong. She weren't gonna let him get away with it.

_Not this time. _

This time, _she _was gonna make him hurt. This time, he'd know what it was like to feel the pain, the _burn _a all the shit he'd ever done ta them.

She lit another cigarette, took a deep drag, tastin' that sweet ash as it burned her lungs 'n throat. She leaned back in the chair; legs curled underneath her, 'n looked out the window.

Daryl was out there somewhere. Merle was out there somewhere.

They was _safe_ at that somewhere.

"I always loved you boys," she whispered, wishin' she coulda told them ta their faces. Wishin' they woulda believed her even if she coulda.

And she let her arm drop, to the chair arm, as the cigarette slipped from her fingers and onta the floor.

Where it rolled against the paper, rolled over the clothes, and slowly started to burn.

"Never stopped lovin' you," the tears still slidin' down her cheeks.

She hugged her knees to her chest, and watched the birds fly by, and the trees sway in the wind, finally feelin' _free_ knowin' that her boys would be _safe_ and that she was taken Earl to hell with her.

And she sat there until that house burned, the flames engulfing her.

* * *

"_In this life we cannot always do great things. But we can do small things with great love."_


	21. Die

**EM: **I had to take a few days to just _breathe_ after Mama Dixon. This chapter goes out to **letmefallasleep** coz she gets my Muse goin' when we get to talkin'. And when we talk Merle, Merle sometimes doesn't make the best choices. And sometimes Daryl, tries to stand up on his own two feet. Thanks for our talks.

**Disclaimer: **Dixons boys belong to Kirkman and AMC.

**Warning: **Non-Graphic Animal Abuse, Violence, and Non-Graphic Drug Abuse

* * *

Die

"Come on Merle." He held out the glass of water like a beacon of light between them.

Merle dry-heaved over the cracked toilet seat, nothin' but yellow spit and air comin' out. And when he was finished, he turned on him, a snarl rippin' from him and slapped that glass of water from his hand. It crashed to the floor, splittin' down the side. Pissed him off coz they didn't have but three good cups.

"Don' need none a yur fuckin' _help_ Darylena. Ain't nothin' wrong-" But Merle didn't git to finish his sentence 'fore he was chokin' on his spit again.

Daryl didn't want to sit 'round and pat Merle's back, when neither a them wanted that. What he wanted was to find Chief. Merle'd kicked the fuckin' shit outta him, and sent him runnin' when all Chief had done was sit by Merle's side.

Daryl fuckin' _hated _that. Chief loved Merle, almost as much as he loved Daryl, and Merle treated him like shit.

He wished Chief could understand when Merle got high, he shouldn't hang 'round. Merle was like that rabid dog that you knew not to touch, and you'd think Chief woulda been able ta sense that. But the dog were either dumber than rocks, or he just loved Merle too much.

Fuckin' dog.

Which meant that _he _couldn't leave Merle neither, coz if Chief had tried to stay by his side than Daryl sure as hell had to try.

"Gragh-" Daryl jerked forward, and started pounding Merle on the back. His face was startin' to pinch up, the color drainin' from it, and Merle's eyes went wide.

"Fuck Merle! Breathe!" He gripped him by the collar and pulled him round, bringin'em face to face. He grabbed him by the jaw, and imitated slow and steady breaths.

Coz slammin'im on the back sure as fuck weren't workin' and he just couldn't _watch _Merle choke to fuckin' death. Not after all the shit they'd been through.

And Merle, he searched out Daryl's eyes, and started breathin' like Daryl. It caught in his lungs a couple times, but eventually he started ta calm down, face started turnin' back to normal, and the veins on his neck went down.

There was a moment, as they sat there, just lookin' at each other. Daryl knew it wouldn't last long. But somethin' in Merle's eyes weren't the same. He actually looked _grateful_.

He were lookin' at him like Daryl had always wanted him too; like he was the kid brother he'd always wanted and loved.

And then the moment was gone. Daryl knew coz he watched as Merle's eyes narrowed, and his body stiffened.

"I _said_," he growled, pushin' Daryl away, "I don' need none a ya fuckin' help." Daryl leaned back on his heels and didn't say nothin'. Just watched Merle lean his head back 'gainst the once-white walls of the shitty bathroom.

"I was only tryin' ta help ya out Merle," he muttered, wantin' to knock some goddamn sense into his brother.

He didn't see it comin'. That was the thing 'bout Merle. You didn't know when he was okay with ya, or when he wasn't.

Daryl shoulda known, coz he was hung-over from the high a last night, that he'da been an ass no matter how fucked up he were feelin'.

Merle's fist landed across his jaw, and sent him crashin' into the wall. He were lucky the bathroom were so fuckin' small else he'da ended up sprawled on his ass, embarrassin' the fuck outta himself.

And Merle woulda loved that.

"Fuck Merle!" Merle rose to his feet, shakily.

"No, fuck _you_ brotha." And Merle kicked him in the gut, sendin' the air right outta his lungs, and his body curlin' inward.

"Didn't ask fer yur sympathy," he said, bringin' his holey-socked foot right down over his shoulder.

There weren't as much force behind that kick as the first. He could see the sweat shinin' on Merle's forehead, his heavy breathin'.

He were screwed too that bathroom were so fuckin' small. Coz now he didn't have nowhere ta run.

Merle musta known his body didn't have it in him to fight though. Coz he just knelt down, body hoverin' over Daryl's.

"Next time I says I don't need ya help," he breathed, his words runnin' together as he tried to catch his breath, "you fuckin' _listen._" Sweat dripped down the side of Merle's face, over the scruff that was startin' to show some gray.

And Daryl was fuckin' _tired_ then, of takin' that shit.

So he rose to his feet, barely able to stand as Merle kept his chest pushed forward tryin' ta intimidate him.

"Ya know Merle," and he watched the confusion start to cloud his brother's eyes.

"You can get yur own fuckin' water. You can fuckin' sit in this tiny ass bathroom and choke yur guts out, all coz you had to git fuckin' high." Merle stood quiet, momentarily stunned. But Daryl could see the anger slowly startin' to rise back up into his blue-gray's.

"Next time, you can fuckin' _die_ fer all I care," he spat, and he pushed Merle on the chest, to make his point and hurried outta the bathroom 'fore Merle decided to do somethin' back. Coz no matter how brave he'd felt in the moment, he'd never stood up to his brother before. Never _talked _like that to his brother 'fore.

He ran outta the house, out the front, down the road, and just kept runnin'. Till he weren't sure of where he was, and the trees had him surrounded, and the sounds of the forest were the only things he could hear.

He collapsed against a tree, and pulled his knees to his chest, buryin' his face in them.

Now he felt like he couldn't breathe.

And then a wet nose was budgin' him in the arm, burrowin' its face under his elbow.

"Chief," he whispered, and started rubbin' the dog, the feelin' of his hands runnin' over Chief both calmin' him and bringin' back what he'd said to Merle in the bathroom.

He felt his chest tighten, and his hands gripped Chief tight, the dog's head turnin' to face him, eyes watchin' his face closely. Chief was a smart fuckin' dog. Always knew when he was upset or angry.

"He's all I got left in the world Chief, other than you." Chief bayed softly, his lean spotted body restin' against Daryl's. Chief knew how Daryl liked the dog's weight against him, like it was a kind of comfort. Chief licked his arm, and then his face.

"I don't want'im to die Chief," he admitted softly, knowin' the dog was the only thing he could ever admit that too, burying his face into Chief's neck, wrappin' an arm round him.

"He _can't_ die."

* * *

**Reviews for the Muse.**

**So** ya'll should check out _letmefallasleep_'s story, Cajun Queen. Her OC Savannah, is one tough, Dixon handlin' woman. I've grown way too fond of it, and Savannah.

**A/N: **I'd just like to **thank** everyone who's been here with me, and reviewing all the way. _letmefallasleep _– you've been here for every chapter. That pretty much just makes my day. _ArmedWithMyComputer, TearsOfTheForgotten, Brazen Hussy, witnesstoitall, GhostWritter84, Chemical Ghost, VoodooInTheTARDIS, Lord-Cas, reedus fan. _You guys have been around, for a while. And it's amazing that you've stayed here with me, and continue to review. I've really come to look forward to what you all have to say, to every chapter I post. And the those of you who post at random, or have just recently come into this, or my last chapter inspired you to review (_xmenfan33_, you came in and reviewed _every single chapter, _in one go), _I thank you as well_.

Thanks for being here, though the Dixons make it all worthwhile.


	22. Better

**EM: **Hey ya'll sorry this took me awhile to post. I started a new _Maryl_ fic, a sequel to Promise. Maybe you should go check it out, it's titled Never Let Go. I've been a little busy with that one. But I missed my boys so I had to make a quick reappearance.

**Disclaimer: **Dixons belong to Kirkman and AMC.

**Warning: **Nudity, Sexual Connotations and Language

* * *

Better

He didn't sleep good last night. Prob'ly coz Merle had some fuckin' skank over last night. They'd been up, poundin' flesh till he thought he heard the birds callin' real early this mornin'. Chief moaned at the foot of his bed. Rolled over and got up to lay down on the floor. It was fuckin' bad when Chief couldn't sleep coz a Merle 'n some skank.

Which was odd, coz usually Merle never went that long with no skank 'fore. He didn't think Merle could keep it up that long.

He shook his head, hair fallin' into his eyes, as he tried to shake the thoughts of Merle, bangin' some chick in the room right next ta his.

He grumbled, and rounded the corner into the living room, Chief followin' at his heels.

Where he stopped, Chief growlin' behind him.

There was an ass. A _naked_ ass. A nice lookin' ass if his eyes weren't decievin' him. The body attached to that ass was bent over, rustlin' through the fridge. If he twisted his body, and bent to the side, he'd get a view a somethin' else as well.

He shook his body like a dog, and cleared his throat loud enough for his fridge raider to hear.

She rose up, slow and cat-like, like she didn't have no care in the world that she was almost naked 'cept for Merle's shirt, that was only buttoned up twice, over her.

He was almost sure one a her tits was gonna make an appearance, the way that shirt hung so loose 'bout her shoulders.

"You keep starin' like that 'n I just might have to charge ya." Her voice was rough, like she'd smoked too much, and low. But it wasn't hard on his ears and it weren't nothin' like the skanks he heard up at the bar.

No, this was somethin' different.

She laughed, soft, and slow. "Merle said you'd be weird."

His brows drew together, as she walked round the half kitchen like she knew where she was and what she were doin'.

"Weird?" he echoed. She laughed again, poured herself a glass a water.

"Well, he didn't use _those _words." She took a drink. He nodded, like he knew exactly what Merle woulda said. Prob'ly called him a pussy, and a fag.

He studied her some, while she did the same. She looked down and eyed Chief, brows raised, a small smile touching the corner of her lips.

And he realized he recognized her. Recognized those hazel eyes ringed by green, smudged by black makeup. Her brown-red hair that couldn't quite pick between one color and the other that hung so far over her chest, tangled from her tumble in Merle's bed. The curve a that hip that she popped out to the side.

"You that Raylene," he muttered, squitin' his eyes. It was her.

The one he'd knocked over, and ended up fallin' on when she'd been over last. He grabbed her tit on accident then. She'd given him a black eye in return.

She smiled, and tip-toed over to him, Merle's shirt ridin' up too far. He kept catchin' glimpses of the patch of hair between her legs. And he kept avertin' his eyes but he couldn't help that he kept lookin' back neither.

"That's right Dixon," she purred, restin' a hand on his chest. "You 'member me now, don't ya."

Chief's growls grew louder then, and he rose to his feet, the hair standing up on the back of his neck.

"Quiet Chief. Go on, git." Chief gave her one last look before trotting out the back.

"Sure," he said, "always wondered who the hell'd name their kid _Raylene_." She scowled and smacked his chest playfully, and he saw the smile in her eyes.

"Daddy always wanted a boy, named Billy Ray," she said in that rumblin' voice a hers. "Ma told me she wanted to name me LeAnne. Theys compromised, I'm _told_." Her eyes darkened a moment before her lips twisted into grin. Daryl snorted. Fuckin' parents, always doin' stupid shit.

But he still couldn't get over that she were _here_. Coz she'd been here before. He did remember that now. And that was somethin' that Merle_ never _let happen 'fore. Coz he never brought the same girl home _twice_.

He studied her harder, ignored her obvious nakedness. This time he saw the hairline white scar that trailed down her collarbone, and the old bruise that was quickly fadin' on her hip. The tiny mottled bump scars that extended all over her right thigh.

And there, on her neck, extendin' prob'ly over her back, was a burn-scar twistin' up her skin, morphin' it inta somethin' else. Somethin' hard to look at.

"Hell you lookin' at Dixon?" He looked back at her face, fury like he'd not seen before on a woman since his Ma, written all over it. And then he saw the pink scar that ran jagged over her right eyebrow, somethin' her hair had covered up from afar. That one was newer than tha others.

He heard her growl now.

"You fuckin' Dixons," she spat, walkin' away from him, pickin' up her clothes which he now saw scattered 'bout the room. She shimmied into her jeans, and whipped off Merle's shirt.

Her back was to the wall so he didn't get to see the scar but he got an eye full of her chest. He was pretty sure his eyes had popped outta his skull.

He had to admit, though he'd never been with anyone 'fore, her tits bouncin' like that really got his blood boilin'.

She pulled her flannel across her shoulders, coverin' up what he could a seen, and started doin' up the buttons. Seems she didn't wear nothin' underneath all that.

"Why yous both always gotta be starin' so hard?" Her voice kept gettin' louder and now, Merle stumbled outta his room, naked as the day he were born.

"Fucks goin' on Ray?" She turned round, angrily, and picked her boots up from the floor, started pullin'em on her feet.

She pointed at Merle, and her face was gettin' red. "I ain't gonna stand here, and put up with this shit Merle. Not from neither a ya." She laced up the boots and stood.

Merle looked at him then, anger slowly startin' to write his features. He turned back to Ray, hands up.

"Now hold on there, honey," and he walked over, makin' to grab her. She jerked away from him, and backed towards the door. He recognized that look on her face, knew it from the times when he'd _felt _it. She wanted to _run_.

"Ya'll don't know how to leave things _alone_," she whined, grabbing her pack of smokes off the floor.

"Girl got _secrets_," she whispered harshly, "just like I know _you_ do." And this time, Daryl knew she was only talkin' to Merle. The way her eyes latched onta him, onta his face like she could memorize it, told him a lot.

Told him that Merle went and found somethin' _different_.

Merle growled in the back of his throat, and took a threatenin' step toward her. Daryl had never seen Merle hit a woman 'fore, coz they'd been better 'n that. Better'n what their ol' man had taught them to be.

But somethin' in the way Merle took that step, made Daryl follow with his own.

Ray's face twisted, pain all over it. "Yur better'n all this Merle," she whispered, waving a hand 'round her. "Yur a better man than_ him_."

Merle looked like he was 'bout to cut somebody's throat open. Daryl raced forward, and grabbed Merle into a hold, just as he lunged forward. He didn't know what the fuck she was talkin' bout, but if he could guess, he wanted to know how in the hell she'd gotten Merle to talk to her.

"You don't know fuckin' shit! You dumb bitch! Fuckin' whore!" Merle struggled against Daryl and he wasn't sure he could hold him. He wasn't sure he'd seen his brother act like this in a long fuckin' time.

"Git the fuck out Raylene! Don't wan' see yur face 'round here ever again! The fuck do you know!" Merle jerked again, and managed to get an arm free. Daryl clamped down on the other, pullin' back.

And Raylene, damn woman, didn't flinch. Bitch didn't do fuckin' nothin' but stand there and watch Merle lose his shit, lookin' like she knew exactly what that was. Like she _actually_ wanted to come over there and do somethin' bout it.

"You jus' know I'm right," she said softly, and turned on her heel and walked out the door, lettin' the screen snap shut behind her.

"FUCK YOU!" And Daryl couldn't hold him no more, his arms screamin' at him against the weight and struggle of holdin' Merle back. Merle ran for the door, knocked into the corner of the couch, stumbled and whipped the screen door open.

"Don't fuckin' come back here Raylene! Don' you never come back!" Daryl stood there, stunned that Merle was having such a violent reaction to the woman.

They'd both been so fuckin' touchy.

He had to say, Raylene kinda reminded him of Merle, in that way wounded animals are. Always gotta fuckin' bite, even though your tryin' ta help them.

"Merle," he started to say but was cut off.

"Fuck you Daryl. Bitch ain't got no right." Daryl shook his head and turned to leave.

"Just put some fuckin' clothes on Merle."

But Merle didn't move right away. He just stood there, naked, watching Raylene's back fade in the distance.

He don't think he'd never seen Merle look so conflicted before. Maybe it was better that they never see Raylene again. Maybe it was better she never come back to this fuckin' hell. He could still see the look on her face, as she turned to leave though. She hadn't _wanted _to leave Merle. And watchin' Merle stand there, starin' out the door as if he'd lost somethin' didn't seem right.

He turned to leave, lookin' to find Chief in all this mess.

Better for _who_ he wondered.

* * *

**Reviews for the Muse. **

**A/N: **So I was listening to _Better Man_ by Pearl Jam when I was writing this. And I really don't know how you'll all take to Raylene, but I was talking with _Brazen Hussy _once (while we were discussing her wonderful story Weeds, so go check it out), about what kind of woman _I _thought Merle would get with and I found my way to her. I always figured one woman had to of made _some _kind of impression on Merle and vice versa, whether it was only fleeting or not. And here she is. Take her or leave her.

But I hope you'll tell me what you thought of her regardless.

Also, I'm looking to change my Pen Name soon. So if you hunt for me by name, be on the lookout.

Love you!


	23. Proud

**Noxid: **I missed you guys! My boys are back. And clearly, I was worried about Raylene _for nothing. _

**Disclaimer**: The Dixons, clearly, _should _be mine. But they aren't.

**Warning**: Violence

* * *

Proud

He shoulda taken the long way home, the way he usually did, through the woods. Never had no problems walkin' home through there. But a course, _today_, he decided to walk home the short way, to git home faster. Fuckin' stupid is what it was.

"Hey, Dixon!" He knew the voice, but didn't stop to answer. Just kept walkin', coz the moment he stopped he was just askin' for trouble. And today, he didn't want no trouble. Not if he could avoid it.

He'd never had no problem with some a tha other boys who lived round him. They were like him, he 'sposed. Didn't go to school when the bruises were fresh, didn't pass the classes most of the time, and sure as hell didn't care for nobody who went there. These boys who were followin' him, didn't live near him. Didn't_ know _him.

"Ya pussy," the boy called, laughing, other voices joining in with him. He didn't rise to the taunt. Couldn't tell how many there were, but enough to keep him movin' forward. He'd been called a pussy before, and worse, by the ol' man, an' his ma. Even Merle. What was one more turd ta add ta the list?

"Run on home ta yur daddy," he called, more laughing following him, their footsteps getting louder, more joining in. Now it sounded like several boys were following him home. Maybe six if he counted the double steps in right?

"So's ya can get yur ass beat agin," he mocked. And his heart thudded in his chest. He breathed, deep, in through the nose. They weren't worth the trouble he'd get at home for it. Kept repeatin' that shit in his head.

"An' that good-fer-shit mama a yurs," the boy called, sounding like he knew where to hit him. Breathe again, once. But he was slowin' down, the boys behind him catchin' up, gettin' closer. Fists clenchin' at his sides. Nobody talked about Ma.

He could feel his chest expanding, and everything was fadin' out.

"She like gettin' smacked round, don't she?" Another breath, another step closer. He couldn't tell which is was; him walkin' slower, or them walkin' faster.

He was startin' not to care.

Them boys, they jus' didn't know when ta quit. They could talk bout his ol' man all they wanted. The dick deserved it, more than anybody he'd known his entire life. Hell, even he wanted to join in on it sometimes. But his Ma?

Fuck. Sometimes, he wanted to scream at her. Wanted her to be better'n what she was. But then she'd do somethin' _right_ ta make him feel like it all didn't matter. An' what the hell was he 'sposed to do with that?

He couldn't let'em get to him. Couldn't let the little shits get in his head. They weren't worth it.

"An' that brother?" He stopped, unable to breathe.

"Fuckin' crackhead. Where's he at this time, huh Dixon?" He turned, unable to control it. His heart was thundering in his chest, and he couldn't think straight no more. _This_ _time_ they was askin' fer it.

"You best shut up," he said, staring down the five boys that stood before him. The biggest one stood in tha middle, standin' like he was king or sum shit. An' the others were just gathered round him, smilin' and laughin', arms crossed over their chests.

He wanted to knock their teeth in.

"Why? Whatcha gonna do? Ya brothers prob'ly in fuckin' _prison_ where he _belongs_." Boys started laughin' like it was fuckin' funny. He could feel his blood boilin', his nails diggin' into his palms. The big one just smiled, "Hell you gonna do without'im? You jus' a lil' _bitch_," he sang, gettin' the other boys to laugh with him.

They was fuckin' stupid if they thought he needed Merle for fuckin' shit. He lunged at the boy in the middle, ignorin' the others. They wouldn't be worth the poundin'.

He threw his fist at the boy, hittin'im square across the jaw, not waitin' for him to get the chance to defend hisself. He followed up with an uppercut jab to his gut, leavin' him bent over, gasping for breath.

An' the other boys, it took them a minute to do anything.

"You don't say fuckin' shit bout ma brother," he growled.

And the boy was quick. He lashed out with his fist, right at his shoulder, sending him reeling. And then, one of the other boys grabbed him, held him tight.

"Buncha inbreds!" The big one, _Tommy _he suddenly remembered, screamed, face red, spit flyin'. He followed with another punch to his own stomach.

He couldn't catch his breath as he doubled over. Another boy grabbed his other arm, holdin' him up. They were laughin' and screamin' now, joinin' in on the show.

Tommy pulled his arm back and hooked one straight to his jaw. "Ya _like_ ya brother, don't ya?" He screamed, lookin' like he was damn excited to be fightin'.

An' that was it. He weren't gonna sit there an' let them little shits talk 'bout him 'n Merle like that, as if they knew nothin' bout them. They didn't know _shit_.

"Don't you fuckin' talk bout Merle!" He twisted his arms from the two boys holdin' him down, kicked Tommy in the shin and lunged for him, like he was some goddamn demon. He fell on him and grabbed him round the neck, squeezin' hard. He squeezed his knees tight, holdin' the boy down.

Even as Tommy thrashed and tossed fist after fist at him he didn't let go. He felt the other boys, grabbin' at him, punchin' him, tryin' to pull him away. But he never let go, never loosened his grip. If anything, he squeezed _tighter_.

"You don't know fuckin' shit bout me 'n ma brother!" His face started turnin' blue, and his hands started hurtin'.

He leaned down, nose-to-nose with him. "You don't fuckin' talk bout him, ever again. Ya hear me?" Tommy nodded quickly, scratchin' at his wrists.

He felt the spit trickle down his chin, and his chest start achin'. And he knew he had to let him go.

Couldn't kill the asshole.

So he released his grip and Tommy started chokin' down air, strugglin' to get free from his legs. He rolled away from him as the other boys backed up, real quick. All a them looked like they'd seen a ghost.

"Ya'll just fuckin' forget messin' with me!" he yelled at them, standin' up on shaky legs.

"Fuck you Dixon!" He turned in time to catch a fist to his face, and he staggered back, seein' black and shining lights.

"Think I'm gonna let you git away with that?" Another fist, to the jaw this time, and he went down.

And then he was being kicked, their boots comin' down hard against his stomach and his chest, and right to his thigh. He curled up on his side, until they were finished.

"Don't think I'll forget this faggot," Tommy sneered, somethin' wet hittin' him. He took one more kick to the back and then he heard their footsteps fade away.

He lay there for a minute before he rolled to his back, breathin' hard, lookin' up at the sky.

He wished Merle were there, ta say somethin', anything. Even just to look at him like he'd done shit wrong. He sat up once he felt like he could move his body good enough, and spat the blood outta his mouth.

But tha real fucked up thing? He woulda _wanted_ to be their friend. Only chance he got ta be any kind a normal was in the woods by hisself, out huntin', or with Merle.

And then there was school. That was somethin' fuckin' different. He wouldn't never admit it to nobody, but he liked school. Got him outta the house, away from the ol' man, and made him think bout shit that he wouldn'ta never thought bout before.

Course, he never did good in school. But that didn't mean shit to him anyway. He just liked goin' there. Liked goin' to a place that made him feel different.

What weren't different was the fuckin' assholes. They was everywhere 'n they sure as fuck found him. Knew how ta make him feel like he weren't nothin' but the crack-shit beneath their shoes.

He didn't think nobody but the ol' man could make him feel that way.

He'd learned to avoid them, learned to see which ones they was. Weren't hard to recognize them. Always the big shits, thinkin' they had the run a things. Tossin' their weight round as if they'd had that right. They was stupid is what they was.

But he was still too small to do shit bout it, if he'd wanted. Fuckin' burned him to admit that, but he was. So he left it alone, kept to himself, and made the most of it that he could. '_Cept for now_, he thought. This time, he weren't gonna let them talk bout Merle. This time it was personal.

Even if he'd got his ass beat, didn't matter. He'd stood up for hisself, stood up for Merle. That's what mattered.

He stood up, staggered for a minute, and then started walkin' home again, holdin' his shirt up to his bleeding lip. The ol' man was gonna give'im hell for comin' home lookin' like this.

But it didn't fuckin' matter.

He was proud a what he'd done.

* * *

**A/N**: Firstly, I changed my name. I'm sorry if this threw some of you off. Secondly, I really missed my boys, but I seriously had to take a day off from writing. Never Let Go was, like, soul-consuming. Go check it out if you already haven't. And, as always, thanks for your constant reviews, support, and all together wonderfulness. _I really love you all. _

_Your reviews would mean the world to me. _


	24. Red

**Nox: **I'm honestly thrilled to be posting this chapter. _Valentine Special!_

**Disclaimer**: Should still be mine.

**Warning**: Language and Sexualness all around

* * *

Red

He was sick a the pussy he'd had. The blonde starin' at him now he had last week. The brown haired one walkin' by he'd had two months ago. Course he'd found out he didn't like'em brown. Didn't like'em too short neither. Didn't like it when they let him have his way, no matter what he'd a done ta them. Had his fuckin' reasons.

He wanted a woman who could stick up fer herself. Wanted one who wouldn't let him push her around. Meant she had balls. Meant she were strong. Meant he couldn't hurt her, even if he tried.

Though, he couldn't deny the blonde with the fine ass legs stretchin' on fer miles made his pants tighter. She didn't spare him a second glance so he didn't fuckin' bother. Spit on the ground after her.

Blondes ended up bein' _stupid_ too. And he'd had his full a blonde, an' tall, an' stupid.

An' he didn't like'em too tall neither. He had ta have somethin' on her. Couldn't be starin' no bitch in the eye. Wouldn't deny, made him fuckin' nervous.

He finished the beer in his hand and tossed it, the glass breakin' at his feet. Bitches went in 'n out a out the bar, some stalkin' like they was made fer it, others like they was hidin' from somethin'.

Lately, he just couldn't seem ta get in the_ mood_. None a the bitches were good neither. Didn't look good, didn't make him _feel _good. He wanted somethin' he just didn't know _what_.

"You lost?" At first, he didn't know the voice was talkin' to him. Not until the trail a smoke clouded around him, and the shiftin' a feet told him a woman was there.

The growl slipped out, without any hesitation.

He turned, gettin' another face full a smoke, hidin' his view a the bitch who'd been _dumb _enough ta talk shit to him.

"You fuckin' stupid?" She shifted her feet, the heavy black boots kickin' the gravel at his legs. She blew out another puff a smoke, blinking slow like she'd not heard him. Pissed him off good.

"You know who I am bitch?" She didn't move, not even as he took a threatenin' step toward her. She just watched him, closely, eyes following his body.

She licked her lips, sendin' his blood boilin'. "Yeah," she drawled, low an' raspy. He could tell she smoked a lot by that voice. Unwillingly, he felt his pants tighten in response to it. He grit his teeth.

Now that he'd gotten closer, he got a better a look at her. At that long dark-red hair falling across her tits, shiftin' with each breath she took. He rolled his shoulders, easin' his neck back an' forth.

Strong jaw line, and a mouth on her. The bottom lip bigger 'n the top. Somethin' you could bite into. He licked his own lips.

He wanted to git a good look at her ass, now that he had the front in mind.

Her eyes held him firmly, watchin' him, lookin' like she knew just what he was thinkin'.

And fuck yeah she had a nice set a tits on her. The tight gray shirt she wore stained from use, fitted to those fuckin' curves a hers. Hell if the way she downplayed herself didn't make him harder, didn't make him wanna drag her into the nearest stall an' fuck her brains out.

Woman knew she had looks, but didn't need nothin' to make'em.

He fuckin' _liked _that.

And then her lips tilted up at the corner. "Like what ya see?" she murmured, takin' another drag on her cigarette, crossin' her arms under her tits, pushin'em further up.

Fuck if she didn't do it on purpose. His dick were strainin' against his pants now. He was sure as fuck glad he wore somethin' ta keep it down.

He watched her. Watched her twist out her cigarette, flick back her hair like it was habit, and then shove her hands into her pockets. She looked up at him, holdin'im down with them hard green eyes.

"I'm new round here," she said, sliding closer, eyes peering up at him.

_Fuck_.

She weren't young. Not much younger than him. He could take her. Take her home, take her _wherever_ and fuck her till he couldn't fuck no more.

He reached out, gripped her by the neck, meanin' to pull her close. Meanin' to take her fer all she had.

And then he felt it, the ragged skin on her back. Her eyes widened, an' she flinched a little, but didn't move.

He saw it then, the thin white scar trailin' down her chest, an' the cigarette burn just behind her ear. Saw the start a the skin on her back, burned, _scarred_. This was shit he _didn't _ want.

He grunted 'n pulled his hand away, turned round an' headed back to the bike. Looked like he was shit out a luck fer pussy today. She was just like tha others anyway. Tossin' themselves at him, at his feet, droppin' they pants without even a thought.

He wanted ta fuck, sure, but he didn't just want a quick easy fuck. He liked to be challenged, like ta work for it. Made the fuck all the better.

"Been watchin' you," she said huskily, her voice different than what her body had said, footsteps followin' his. He threw a leg over his bike, tryin' not ta care. Even if he thought her watchin' him had him interested.

"You done with them bimbos?" Her eyes looked questioning, like she'd been waiting for him. "Or you not ready for me?" She approached him, but didn't touch. Still kept those hand in her pockets.

She was fuckin' lucky she did too, coz if she'd a touched his bike he don't know what he'd a done. And the _challenge _behind that question sent his blood boilin' again.

"You can't handle Merle," he snarled.

She smiled then, lookin' away. He knew that look, recognized it. Somethin' bout pain, an' knowin' hurt were hidden deep in those eyes. He didn't like the pit in his gut that churned.

"Ain't nothin' I can't handle," she said, her voice sweet and low, rumblin' in her chest. She stepped closer, an' he wasn't sure if he wanted her too, or if he didn't.

Seems his dick did, but his head didn't. Couldn't have two heads workin' at once so he had to pick one.

She reached out, flickin' his vest with her fingers. "Wouldn't come lookin' fer you, if I didn't think I couldn't handle ya." Those eyes just wouldn't stop starin' inta him. Like they could read his fuckin' secrets. He couldn't have that shit.

But that voice, that confidence she had that he'd like her – he liked that. Fuckin' turned him the fuck on.

She slid closer again, placed a hand on a handle a his bike. His lip curled, but he didn't move. She caressed it, like she was lovin' somethin' else.

"Always liked bikes," she whispered into his ear. When he didn't answer she must have taken that as her cue to keep goin'.

She tossed a leg over the bike, slow an' sexy, facin' him. She was straddlin' him now, her legs over his. She draped her arms over his shoulders, squeezed her knees against his sides, an' wiggled her ass into his lap.

He growled, and grabbed her hips, _hard_. She smiled, wickedly.

"Always wanted to do it while _ridin'_ a bike," she whispered into his ear, pushin' her chest against his.

She weren't wearin' no fuckin' bra.

He grabbed her hair, pullin' her head back, exposin' her neck.

"Fucks yer name, Red?" She smiled, and turned her head. He gave her some room to move, an' she nipped his wrist. He couldn't fuckin' take it no longer. Couldn't take the tightness in his pants.

"Raylene," she murmured, eyes low, voice deepening. She smelled like smoke an' cherry, an' oak.

He bent over her, face in her neck, breathin' deep. "I'm gonna fuck you Red," he whispered dangerously. He kicked the bike in gear, her leg bouncin' with his and she laughed. He leaned back, kicked up the stand and took off, the bike vibratin' them both, makin' him grit his teeth. She was hot above him, makin' him burn. Makin' him wish he could take her right then, _right there_.

And she just leaned back in between the handle bars, legs wrapped around his waist, squeezin' him tight, an' her arms spread wide like she was flyin'.

And that red hair fluttered in the wind around them both, like rivers of blood and her laughter filling his ears.

Red was his new favorite color.

* * *

**A/N**: Some of you asked for it, so here it is. I originally had something else written yesterday, with Daryl. But we all know Daryl and women just don't work. And I was _consumed_ by Merle and Raylene meeting up like this. I mean, I was writing furiously at work today. Surrounded by little kids who, if they saw this kind of language, I would be screwed.

But not literally, unfortunately. For my obviously _single_ reasons. So while I can't stand V-Day, I do hope that the rest of you share it lovingly with _your_ significant others. Be it husbands/wives, partners, or boyfriends/girlfriends. Or maybe your family.

I don't know. I hate Valentine's Day. Somebody, please get some nookie for me today.

_Your reviews are about all the love I'd get! _


	25. Heart

**Nox: **Post-Valentine chapter, for Daryl. Thanks to _witnesstoitall_ for the arrow to the heart, haha. Daryl shooting arrows at hearts in the name of a woman? Now why didn't I think of that? Oh right, because Raylene is a Muse whore.

And the boys have been changed to **M**! Can you believe it? Gah. It rips me up to make that change. Now people will have literally have to _search_ for this story, under the Mature section to find it. That's bullshit.

**Disclaimer**: The Dixons belong to Kirkman and AMC.

**Warning: **Animal Abuse/Horror

* * *

Heart

He hated days like this.

_Thunk_

Days when Merle was gone and he _wanted _him here.

_Thunk_

Days when the ol' man were gone and he wished Merle were here even _more_ coz a the feelings that brought round.

_Thunk_

Chief bayed next to him.

Days when he couldn't understand his own fuckin' thoughts. At least Merle woulda smacked him over the head an' told him to git the fuck over it. Least one a them woulda known what to do.

But Merle weren't here. And he had to figure his own shit out.

"Fuckin' sucks Chief," he muttered, holding the crossbow up in his sights. He held the target in sight, a mass of brown and red, hung against the tree. He held his hand over the trigger, letting his finger waver.

He could see her now, blonde hair pulled up on her head, showin' off her neck. Big brown eyes that just wouldn't stop _staring_ at him. She was like one a them girls outta a magazine, all soft and white lookin'. Like she was too perfect ta touch.

"Too perfect fer _me_," he growled, squeezing the trigger, the crossbow bouncing back against his shoulder, and the soft _chink_ of the arrow flying.

_Thunk_

He'd felt like some goddamn idiot, gawking in the middle of the quick stop, lookin' like he'd lost his goddamn mind. Over some goddamn _girl_.

"Fuckin' idiot," he snarled, loading and releasing another arrow.

This time, he'd missed.

He growled, and tossed the crossbow to the floor, going down with it. He drew his knees up, an' took a drink from the beer at his side, pattin' Chief on the head.

He'd tried not to notice her. Acted like he was lookin' at some dumbass sign on the wall fer slurpees. _Fuckin' idiot_. But he had to. Coz if he didn't, then _Merle_ woulda noticed her too.

Merle woulda made that shit worse. Probably woulda called him out, made a fool of him.

And Merle, he just had to have his goddamn beer. They wouldn'ta stopped off at the gas station if he hadn't a been high to begin with. But Merle just have to stop. Wanted to keep the high fuckin' goin'. And he didn't have much choice but to stop, less he wanted a fist to tha face.

Then he had to go in an' make sure Merle didn't get fuckin' caught actin' like no damn dumbass.

He'd made that mistake in the past. Been a _bad_ fuckin' mistake. Had to run from the police before. He weren't doin' _that _fuckin' shit again.

So he went in. And there she was.

_She musta been new coz she smiled at them as they walked in, bright and shiny. Pissed him off how dumb 'n nice she looked with that big ass smile on her face. But, fuck, if he couldn't stop staring._

_Did he have somethin' on his fuckin' face? _

"_Make yurself useful brother," Merle said in his ear, slappin' him on the back. He pushed him towards the back, to the beer. He made his way down the short aisle, slow, lookin' back as discreetly as possible. Merle was walkin' down another aisle, watchin' the clerk takin' stock, lookin' to see if there were any cameras. He shook his head. _

_Merle was lookin' to steal shit too. Just what he fuckin' needed. But if it kept Merle busy an' he didn't get caught, then fuck. Who was he to care? _

_He stood in front a the door, not really carin' what he picked out. The warm air fogged up the window, hidin' his face. _

_She was watchin' them both. Eyes dartin' between him 'n Merle. _

_He grabbed a six pack, and walked to the front, seein' Merle stash somethin' in his pocket out a the corner a his eye. She frowned, but didn't say anything. And Merle, he was too busy packin' his pockets to notice her watchin'. _

_He dropped the beer on the counter, jarring her attention. She brought her focus, that big brown gaze, back to him. Her lips were pursed, brows drawn together. He liked them lips._

_Course, he never liked nothin' bout no girl before so this was fuckin' new. _

"_Yes?" She had the softest voice, sweet and young. He felt his face heatin' up, feelin' like some jackass for even lookin' twice at her. She musta been young, too young for him to be even thinkin' bout her in any kinda way. _

_He nodded down to the beer on the counter, and she followed his gaze. _

"_Oh, shit I'm sorry," she drawled as that smile tipped up her lips again. He couldn't help the way the corners of his lips just tilted in response. She watched his face, eyes flicking between his lips and his eyes. He started shiftin' on his feet, rubbin' the back of his head. That stare made him fuckin' nervous. _

He tossed the beer away, sendin' it tumbling through the grass. Chief watched it roll away, one brow raised.

"The fuck you lookin' at?" Chief just gave him one last stare before laying his head back across his paws.

He couldn't believe he was reactin' this way to some fuckin' _chick_.

"Hell am I thinkin' Chief?" Chief sat there, eyes on the target, body curled towards him.

If there was one thing he'd learned from Merle, if was that Dixons didn't think about women. Not like he was doin'.

The fuckin' problem? He actually thought she was kinda pretty. Thought he coulda had a chance.

"Too fuckin' pretty fer me. She ain't no damn Dixon type," he grumbled, rubbin' Chief behind the ears, his low moan of appreciation makin' him grimace.

But he couldn't help thinkin' that maybe, if Merle hadn't a been there, he mighta talked to her.

Mighta got up the nerve to say somethin' to make her smile at _him_.

"_Hell Daryl!" She looked up, brows furrowed at Merle's loud voice. He didn't turn, didn't answer Merle's call. Just kept watchin' her. Watchin' her watch him. Thing was though, she was untouchable. He knew that better than anyone. He couldn't have that, couldn't even look at her agin. She was too good, too much a that other world he could never be a part of. _

"_Let's fuckin' move brother!" He nodded again, at her hands holding the six pack. _

"_How much?" She glanced down, and bit her lip. That motion sent his hands into his pockets, his shoulders hunchin' further in. That motion made him _want_._

"_Four dollars and seventy-nine cents," she said, watchin' Merle at the door. She looked over at the stock manager, then back at Merle again. _

_Her eyes fell on him again as he handed her a five, and picked up the pack, leavin' his change behind. _

"_Wait!" He didn't stop, watchin' Merle's back exit through the door. He needed to go, before somethin' happened. Merle kept his hands shoved in the pockets he had stashed the shit he stole, and moved fast for the truck. _

_He felt an arm grab his shoulder, firm. _

"_I said wait." He didn't turn all the way, but did look back. She stood there, staring up at him intently. _

"_Your change," she said, holding it out with her other hand. He looked down at it, but didn't make any move to take it. _

"_Nah," he muttered, shrugging her off. She curled her fingers around it, her eyes studying him hard. _

_She looked back out at Merle, her eyes narrowing. "So you just let him borrow those then," she said evenly, letting her hands fall to her sides. _

_He sure as hell didn't know what the fuck she were talkin' bout. An' that musta shown on his face. _

"_Those," she said, pointing outside. She looked up at him, head cocked to the side, eyes questioning. _

"_Seems to me those wings belong to _you_." He stood there, shocked silent. _

"_The fuck you talkin' bout?" She pointed outside, to Merle, to the wings on tha back on his vest. He laughed then, feelin' like she'd just cracked a joke. _

_She musta been shit-crazy thinkin' those wings belonged to Merle, let alone him. They was a goddamn joke it was they were. Merle, he liked things that didn't make sense. Like to make the whole world look at him an' just _spin_. _

_Her face twisted into a frown and she backed up a few steps. _

"_Those ain't my wings sister," he said cruelly. She looked down, clinking the coins in her hand. "They my brothers. _His_." _

"_He tell you that?" He could feel the sudden anger, like a fist slammin' into his gut, makin' his blood boil. He took a step toward her, threatening. She looked afraid then, took another step backwards. _

"_He don't have ta tell me nothin'," he whispered. She stood there, fearful, and he took a breath. Backed up a few steps. This isn't how he'd wanted this to go. Didn't think it'd go anywhere, but sure as hell not like this. _

_He sighed. "Look, didn't mean ta cause trouble." And he turned on his heel and walked out. _

"_I know," she called, sounding hopeful, sounding like she really _did_ know. _

_But he didn't look back. Merle was waitin' for him, and that girl - she wasn't a part of his world. Wouldn't never be able to understand his life. Wouldn't never be able to survive them. _

She'd said shit she didn't know nothin' about. Made him fuckin' mad. Who were she to talk about Merle like that? Who were she to talk about _him_ like that? She didn't know what he'd done. All she'd seen was Merle, an' tried to compare them both.

Bitch'd made a fuckin' mistake. Merle, well, he'd done some bad shit before. He'd done some ass-backwards things to _him_ before, hell he didn't deny it. But Merle had done right by him too. Merle hadn't let him down so far.

And that was what he knew.

He wouldn't want that girl to know his life, to know who he really was. Just as well that he only got a brief glimpse of who she was, to only have that _wish_ that he could have her.

That was all he could have, all he needed. Was for the best, for both him and Merle.

Didn't mean he didn't _hate _it though. A part a him wanted to know what it would be like to have that girl. To have her in his life. Her smilin' for him.

How fucked up was it that it was so hard to picture it though?

"I'm fucked up Chief." Chief bayed.

"Don't have ta agree ya dumb dog," he murmured, rubbing him along the back.

He grabbed the compound at his side an' stood up, eyeing the target on the tree. Red dripping down the bark.

He stalked to the tree, where it hung, Chief followin' at his heels. He could hear the girls voice, echoin' in his head, tauntin' him. He _hated_ the way he got round girls. Hated he was such a pussy. Hated how much he knew he could never have'em.

He pulled at an arrow notched in the tree, and stared at the mess. The squirrel hung there, fucked ta bits, shredded, torn open. And there, in the center, was its heart.

Thing had a fuckin' perfect heart. And there it hung, like some goddamn thing on display. Just danglin' in the open, like it'd never been touched. Like it was tryin' ta tell him somethin'.

Like how he'd missed it with every _single_ fuckin' shot he'd taken.

Like how he was just like Merle an' his ol' man, sittin' there, shootin' off arrows at a poor defenseless creature all coz he couldn't figure his shit out.

"Goddammit," he barked, and plunged the arrow into the squirrel's heart.

* * *

**A/N: **I can't be too sure of this chapter. Oh well.

Thanks to _what evil lurks_ for showing up so unannounced and finding me here. Your reviews made me smile.

Now, you know I love you all. And really, I do. The Dixon's past has become so much_ more_ because of you all. With that being said, I'd like some input on Raylene. And I'm being serious. About eleven of you seriously review _every chapter_ and I'd love for more of you too, but I'm not Hitler. And the Muse has been prodding me with a hot poker about Raylene and Merle's future, within the Walking Dead's universe. So, the question/s: where would you see Merle and Raylene going? Could you see me going to an AU/IU with Merle and Raylene? And if so, what would you imagine being there, or what would happen to them? Because you'll probably be the ones reading her, and I want to know what you think. Hit me up with a PM to let me know, or just leave it at the tail end of your review.

Which I would dearly love.

_Your reviews would mean the world to me. _


	26. Ugly

**Nox: **I'm sorry I've been gone for so long. I got lost in Sacrifice and after the episode 'Home' I've had to do some thinking. About where my boys are, where they will now go, what they've done in my past. I think I'll just keep them going, as I've had them. This chapter was in a way inspired by 'Home'. It hit me hard, emotionally. I hope you'll all be okay at the end.

**Warning**: Intense Child Abuse – Physical and Verbal

* * *

Ugly

It'd been a dumb, stupid question. Course, he didn't know that til now. Not til his daddy were whippin' him.

"_What's there ta eat?" _

That's where it started. "Dumb _fuckin_' question." He tried the cuss word out on his tongue. He liked it, liked the way it rolled easy out a his mouth. Merle used to cuss a lot.

Course, Merle weren't here no more. Merle was _gone_. And he was thinkin' Merle weren't comin' back this time.

He 'spected that was why daddy were so _angry _all a the time now.

Merle left a week ago. Just took off without tellin' him. He had a feelin' somethin' like that was gonna happen. Daddy had been beatin' on him hard for the past year, fer no reason at all. Sometimes he didn't wonder if daddy were right in the head. Course, mama didn't do nothin' bout it. Didn't stop daddy, didn't save Merle.

She _never _saved Merle. No matter how much he wanted her too. She just sat there, smoked, drank, an' stared off through the window.

He thought somethin' were wrong with mama too.

But when Merle was round, he'd never had no problem eatin' nothin' 'fore. Sometimes the food in the fridge weren't so good. Maybe it didn't smell no good neither. But least there was _something_.

And if he asked Merle, he'd just produce somethin' outta one a his pockets. Didn't matter what it was. Crackers, old jerky. Or he'd push him toward the kitchen an' fix up some kind a sandwich with whatever he could find, or toss a jar a pickles his way.

One time, Merle took him to the burger place four miles out.

He loved those burgers.

But he'd never had ta worry. Merle made sure that when he asked, food were there. Now?

He weren't gonna ask never again. He'd find his own food, however the hell he had too. Huntin', or cookin'. Hell, he'd figure that shit out. He winced, pulling his shirt over his head, as the tattered ends pulled along his broken skin. It hurt so _bad_.

He could still feel the crack a the belt on his back, the sting a the leather as it snapped over his skin. The lancing pain through his back as the buckle tore through his skin.

Daddy had to dig that one out it was so far deep in. Then he'd just grabbed the buckle an' started slappin' that thing at his back, through his shirt, for all he was worth. He was screamin' first, but by the end he didn't have no voice left, his throat raw. He just sat there, huddled on the floor as the rhythmic slap – _sting_ of each lash became a chant.

_Merle_. Slap.

_Merle. _Slap.

_Merle. _Slap.

He wanted Merle there more than anything in the whole damn world. He wouldn't be able to tell nobody why. But he just _did_.

If anyone saw the shit Merle had done ta him in the past they'd prob'ly think he was lucky that at least _one_ a them was gone. That he should be happy that he had one less person to treat him like shit.

But nobody understood Merle. Nobody understood it was Merle who kept food in his belly. Nobody understood it was Merle who kept daddy away. Nobody understood it was Merle who never let him _die_.

And it was Merle who'd taught him that Dixon's never gave up, even when it was each other who was givin'em hell.

"_The hell you want boy?" Daddy screamed at him, pullin' him by the arm. He threw him to the ground, undoing his belt with the other hand. _

_He struggled with it, eyes bloodshot, wild in his face. He'd shot up earlier, slidin' that needle into his elbow. _

"_Just hungry," he murmured, not lookin' daddy in the face. You never looked daddy in the face. _

_He backhanded him, blood pooling in his mouth. The taste was like chewin' on iron. He _hated _it. _

"_Yer _hungry_?" he whispered, towering over him. The belt hung by his side. He didn't even see it comin', it was as quick as a snake. _

_Daddy snapped that belt at him, fast, and it hit him across the shoulder. He cried out, curlin' into himself. _

"_You fuckin' hungry, you can fuckin' feed yaself!" The belt lashed against his back, and he flinched, screamin' again. The pain was striking, echoing out across his body in waves. _

"_Fuckin' hunt like ya brother did." Another snap of the belt, another crack against his back. He screamed again. _

"_No good piece a shit." _Crack

_"Why don't ya feed ya family?" Another crack, another wave of pain._

"_Stop it!" He was surprised at the sound of his own voice. And he should a known it would only make daddy hit harder. _

"_You want me ta stop?" he whispered softly, bending down to grab him by the throat, lifting him up. Gray bloodshot eyes stared into him, cutting off the air to his lungs. He choked once, and then daddy tossed him to the ground. _

"_Yer useless," daddy spat, and cracked the belt again. He'd never felt so much pain before. Never felt like his skin was being torn from his back. _

"_Please," he shuddered, ducking his head under his arms. His eyes were starting to burn. He wanted to run away. He wanted someone to help him. _

_He wanted Merle. _

"_Git up boy," he ordered. He raised his head a little, not daring to look him straight in the eyes. _

"_I says git up!" And he got up on his hands and knees, trying to breathe right. Only to have daddy's boot slam into his back, forcing him back to the ground. He didn't even have the breath to scream out this time. _

"_You wanna beg fer me?" Daddy screamed. He couldn't do nothin' by lay there, still and broken. _

_Slap. _Merle_._

_It was going numb now. Something warm trickled over his back as pieces of blue cloth, stained red, fluttered around his head. _

_Slap. _Merle.

_He wasn't gonna give up. Dixon's didn't give up. No matter how much he wanted to let go, he weren't gonna _give up_._

_Slap. _Merle.

_He weren't givin' up. _

By the time he came to, daddy was gone, he was still lyin' on his stomach and the house was quiet. Not even a whisper.

It took him a long time till he could roll over and get his feet under him. His back still ached, pain runnin' through him at every twist and turn. He was gonna scar.

He was gonna have marks on his body fer the rest a his life. Marks a his weakness. Marks that would tell everyone how useless he'd been. How he'd never been able to do nothin' but take it.

He was useless. He was weak.

And he was ugly.

The scars were ugly. They'd never go away an' that was his fault. Fer not bein' able to stand up to the old fuckin' man.

"Where are you Merle?" he whispered to the darkness that was beginning to descend. He stared up at the night sky, eyes burnin', fists clenching at his sides.

"Why'd you leave me?"

But it was a _dumb fuckin' question_. Nobody understood Merle better than him.

Why else would Merle leave?

_He_ was ugly.

* * *

**A/N**: I'd like to thank everyone who's been here so far, and who's showed up recently. Where would I be without you?


	27. Guts

**Nox**: Hey guys! Some of you will like this one, some won't. Read my note below!

* * *

Guts

It was his turn to go huntin'. Hell, it was _always_ his turn to go huntin'. Didn't matter what day it was. Whether he had to work, or if _he _was tired. If he'd done the huntin' the day before, or if he just didn't want to. Merle never did it no more. Or Merle would tag along, high as a motherfuckin' kite, scarin' off any game to be had. It was better if he just did it on his own.

And, hell, he'd been doin' a lot a _other_ shit lately.

Gettin' high, screwin' them girls, goin' away for long periods a time. Course now he was complainin' bout some bad case a the clap, so fuckin' was outta the question.

He chuckled.

Merle couldn't stop pissin', an' it burned every time he did. He could just hear Merle, screamin' an' bitchin' from the pisser now.

"It's what he fuckin' gits, huh Chief," he muttered, knockin' his leg against the dog. Chief bayed lowly, trotting to keep up with him.

Somehow though, he'd gotten his hands on some pills for that shit. Now instead a just shootin' hisself up, he was poppin' pills too. Merle was a lot a things when he was high, but when he took _both_, he was like some goddamn monster.

Merle made his life a livin' hell when he got hopped up on two different things. He couldn't handle him when he got like that and despite hatin' being the only one to go huntin' every day damn time, he was glad to be out of that fuckin' house.

He held the crossbow in his sights, moving at a steady pace. He could hear the scratch a feet, the rustle a the leaves.

But anythin' he coulda shot at were sneakin' by him an' it was pissin' him off. Couldn't see'em, couldn't find'em.

He let the crossbow drop to his side. Something was scarin' his dinner off, coz it sure as hell weren't him an' Chief. He kept walkin', eyes scanning the forest around him. Shit didn't feel right.

And then Chief took off, his weary legs hobbling ahead of him, crooked tail swinging. Birds took flight into the air.

"Dammit Chief," he yelled after him, taking off through the trees, crashing through the underbrush. He didn't care now what noise he made.

He could see Chief, moving further ahead, disappearing into the shadows. He tried to pick up the pace, but he lost sight of him. He don't think he'd even seen the dog move so fast before.

"Stupid mutt," he muttered, stopping where he was. He glanced round, got his bearings. He was from the path he'd been taking, far from any place close to home. This was a different forest, a different world.

Not his.

It was the shuffling to his right that spurred him into action. He turned on his heel, the crossbow raised to his sights.

He froze.

He was looking down the sight, into the green eyes a the kid. His eyes were wide in his face, an' he could see his shoulders trembling. Little shit shouldn't even _be _out here.

"The hell are are ya doin' out here?" he spat, pullin' the crossbow out a his face. Kid looked freakin' terrified. Hell if he didn't deserve it creepin' up on him like that. Chief bayed, comin' up behind the kid.

"I…I was…" he looked away, at the floor, behind him. He shifted his feet and picked at the nails on his fingers.

"I coulda fuckin' killed ya!" His head shot up, eyes got real big, the bruise against his hairline suddenly coming into focus. He focused on it for a second before pulling his gaze away from it. Didn't need the kid to know he'd seen it, or to know that it was a big deal.

He huffed, shifting his weight. Chief, the dumbass, just sat there at the kid's side like it weren't no fuckin' problem.

"I just wanted…ya know…" and the kid swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze.

"Spit it out kid, I ain't got all day. Ya already run off my dinner." Kid shifted on his feet, chin to his chest, and took a step back.

And then another. Chief sat up, followed him, tail wagging a little. Boy reached out a hand hesitantly, and then jerked up to catch his eye again, pulled his hand away fast.

Didn't mean he'd missed the small, circle-like burns on the inner part of his arm, the ones that looked just like his own cigarette burns. He sighed, ran a hand through his hair.

"Didn't mean _you_ had ta run off," he muttered, in about the only apology the kid was gonna get. Kid looked up, eyes a little hopeful. Chief nudged the boy's hand with his nose.

"Sounded like ya didn't want me round," he murmured softly, bending down to run his hands over Chief's body. Damn dog started to moan lowly, resting his head on the boy's shoulder.

And the boy's lips quirked up just a little as he stared down at Chief.

"Come on," he called, turnin' around. He held the crossbow back in his hands, bringin' it up. He heard Chief trot after him, and then after a moment, the boy's steady gait.

"What are ya-" He turned on him, sendin' a glare his way. He'd learned that shit from Merle, an' he hoped he was givin' it as good to the kid. He held a finger up to his lips, shushing him. He moved forward, ears listening for sounds, eyes scanning the area around him.

They moved forward, not talkin', the boy and Chief just shadows behind him. And then the deer came into his sights. He held up a hand to stop them, Chief dropping his ass to the ground. The boy came to stand next to him, leaning towards him slightly.

"Ya gonna kill it?" the kid whispered, eyes on the deer but his gaze unfocused. And he hesitated, somethin' he'd not done since he were a kid hisself. He glanced down at the boy, standing next to him. Took in the gray-black scars on his neck, the bruises along his shoulder, the one on his head. And then he saw the cuts, the red welts on the back a the kids knuckles.

And he looked back at the deer, felt the weight a that pain, of _his_ pain. Felt his _own_ scars pulse along his back, felt the cigarette burns tingle on _his_ shoulders and _his _stomach.

He hadn't had a bruise in a while, not since the ol' man had died. But he couldn't forget the way the pain a his ol' man's hand would echo over his body. Weren't somethin' you ever forgot.

He pulled the trigger.

He watched the bolt embed itself in the deer's side, right in the heart, and he heard the boy's sharp intake of breath at his side. They watched together as the deer fell to its side.

They stood in silence a moment before he responded. "Need ta eat," he said matter-of-fact, trudging over to the beast, pullin' out his knife. Chief trotted at his side, the boy followin' behind him.

He slung the crossbow over his back, and knelt beside the deer. He ran a hand over its shoulder, its fur soft. He thanked whatever god there was, if he was even around, that the animal was even out here. Not a day didn't go by that he didn't hunt for something out here in the woods.

"Need ta _survive_," he said softer this time, staring into the dead eye of the deer.

He reached forward, the knife underneath the deer's throat. "What are ya doing?" the kid barked, grabbing him by the shoulder.

And he turned on the kid, grabbing his hand, pullin' him to the ground, and pinning him down.

He was breathing hard, and he didn't even know how, but the knife was now pressed up to the kid's throat. And this time, he didn't look nervous. He looked like he'd seen this shit every day.

He growled, an' rolled off the kid. "Don't fuckin' touch me Jed," he said hoarsely, tryin' to hide the shake in his voice.

He went back to the deer, needin' to finish what he'd started now. He slit the deer's throat, lettin' the blood flow out.

"Why?" Jed asked, sounding like he'd just killed his freakin' pet. He stood up, towering over the boy and leaned down into his face.

"Coz it's what needs to be done," he said harshly, as Jed took a step back. "Gotta eat, gotta live. Sometimes ya gotta do things that ya don't _like_." He pointed at the kid's chest, the knife tapping over his heart. Jed swallowed hard, but he looked up again, and this time there was something different in his eyes.

Something like steel.

"An' sometimes it takes guts to do tha shit ya don't like." He walked away from the boy, a pool of blood around the deer now. It'd stain the coat, but it didn't matter at this point. He didn't need it. He'd be a fuckin' mess when he got home, but hell.

He tied the legs up, and then pulled it over his shoulders, grunting as he shifted the weight better.

Chief barked, already walkin' ahead of him, knowing the way home. He followed, feet hittin' the ground harder with the extra weight on his back.

"Do I got what it takes?" Jed called, still standing where he'd left him. Boy looked unsure for a moment, hands fisted at his sides.

He smirked, and jerked his head towards home, turning back to Chief. He knew Jed would follow.

Boy had the strength to survive. He could see that, from the marks on his body, from the way he kept comin' back to him, no matter how he treated him. The boy had _guts_.

"Everybody does," he muttered under his breath, grunting as he shifted the weight of the deer again.

Was just a matter a who used'em.

* * *

**A/N**: The amazing thing about writing this story is that it has become so much more than just a _story_. I've come to believe in the Dixons as _people_; real, breathing, somewhere once in Georgia, people. And the best part? Is that all of _you _have been here to experience this with me. 208 reviews is beyond anything I ever thought would happen. So with that being said, I'd like to thank _abslauren_ for being the 200th reviewer. And I'd like to thank all of you who have continue to review. You guys have helped bring me this far.

I'd like to do something for all of you. I like to think that my boys inspire you, even if it's just a little, and I want to do something with those inspirations. If you'll let me that is, if you _want _me to.

I want to _write_ them. Put them in a chapter, make a moment out of them. So I'd like for you to put it in that review/PM. Whatever it is. A _moment_, a _phrase_ you think Daryl/Merle would say, something you think you would see happen. I'd like to _try_ and incorporate it into my fic. I can't guarantee how it would happen, or where. But if you're willing to trust me, I want to do this for you. Because after all, you've been here for _me_.


	28. Run

**Nox**: This is for _Brazen Hussy_ and _TearsOfTheForgetten_. While you both asked for Merle, it is always such a joy to write him. And he was here to come next, you both just made it so much easier to write this.

And _letmefallasleep_, as much as I hate to admit it, I love writing Merle more too.

**Warning: **Intense Child Abuse

* * *

Run

He just kept drivin'. No matter how dark it was, no matter how tired he got, no matter how much he may a wanted to turn around and _go back_

He'd made his choice.

Didn't help that all he could see was Daryl's face, watchin' him through the doorway. His shocked face at what he was seein'. Little shit had walked in on him when he was changin' his shirt.

"_Merle," he called softly. He didn't have no fuckin' time. He was crouched to the floor, shirt off, lookin' for the piece he kept tucked beneath his mattress. He turned to glare at him, feelin' the shame and the anger boil up inside. _

_And Daryl, he looked like he'd seen a fuckin' _monster_. Eyes wide, mouth flopping open like he was a damn fish. Kid couldn't stop _starin'_. _

"_The fuck you lookin' at?" He got to his feet, the gun in his hands. And this time Daryl took a step back, swallowed hard. He felt his chest get heavier. That was _fear_ in his little brother's eyes. Fear pointed at him. _

"_Git the fuck outta here!" he screamed, takin' a threatenin' step forward. And Daryl darted out a there, not lookin' back. _

He swerved to the next lane, horns blarin' around him. He flipped'em off, but moved into the side lane, where he jerked to a halt. He reached over to the passenger side an' picked up the bottle a whiskey, takin' a pull.

Daryl thought he was a fuckin' monster. He used to follow him around, used to look at him with some kind a pride. Kid used to think he was somethin'. And now? Now that he'd seen'em?

Now he was a _monster_.

He ran a hand across his chest, finger's trailing over the scar across his collarbone.

The ol' man had given him that when he was seven. Daryl weren't even around yet, weren't even a fuckin' mistake yet in Ma's eye. And all the ol' man had was _him_.

"_Ya know what I think boy?" He didn't say nothin'. Had learned the hard way to keep his mouth shut. Couldn't open his left eye coz it was still swollen shut. _

"_I think yous _weak_." He weren't weak. He weren't stupid. He weren't none a the names his daddy called him. But he knew not to say nothin'.  
Just looked away, head down.  
_

_He saw black as daddy backhanded him, blood pooling in his mouth. _

"_You a weak boy?" Daddy screamed and pushed him, his arms flailin' as he fell back on the table behind him. Pain exploded down his spine as he crashed to the floor, the table splintering beneath his weight and the force of his fall._

"_Tell me boy!" Daddy picked up one a the legs a the table, and stood above him, towering like some damn shadow monster with the yellow light behind him._

_"Tell me how weak you are." He wanted to hurt him then, wanted to hurt his daddy like he'd never been hurt before._

"_No," he stuttered out between his clenched teeth, his lip hurtin' like a bitch. He'd never said no to daddy to his face 'fore. _

_Daddy's eyes darkened dangerously, and he curled into himself, just barely. _

"_The hell you say boy?" And he beat the leg against him, over his arm. He screamed out once, and then bit down on his already swollen lip. _

"_That hurt boy?" Daddy yelled, and then hit him again, this time in the leg. He curled on his side, tucking his face into his arms. _

"_Don't ya turn away from me, ya worthless sack a shit," and he pulled on his arm, uncurling him and brought the leg down against across his shoulder as he flinched back. The broken edge of the leg tore across his skin, down over his collarbone and he screamed, the bloodcurdling sound ripping from him of his own accord. _

"_Quiet!" Daddy slammed the leg across his jaw, blood splattering across his cheek, and he saw black spots cross his vision. _

"_Thought I taught ya to be a man!" He hit him across the chest again, across the already open wound. "Yous weak! Yous stupid! Yous exactly what I thot yas was gonna be!" The breath got stuck in his throat. If he coulda killed his daddy right then, if he had the strength to do it, he was sure he would a. He _wanted_ to kill him, with every thing he knew. _

"_Fuck…you," he spat out instead, blood falling down his chin. It was the first time he'd ever said anything like that to his daddy. _

_And he could just make him out, the shadows of his face growing darker as he raised the wooden leg over him and brought it down against his head. _

He'd woke up, bleedin' and achin' like he was dyin'. But he knew he weren't. Hell, nobody who hurt that bad were gonna die. But he couldn't move for a long time. Ma had come in, an' looked down at him like she were sorry.

Course, he didn't miss the bruise all along the left side a her face, or the way she limped as she picked him up and carried him back to his room. She'd wrapped his head up with an old shirt, cleaned off the blood on his chest. He'd been laid up in that damn bed for three fuckin' days. But she'd never left his side. Not even when the ol' man came in an' beat her to the floor till she were limp. But she just got up when he were gone an' sat on the bed next to him an' smiled, runnin' her hand across his cheek.

Saddest fuckin' thing he'd ever seen.

He leaned his head back against the headrest and sighed, closing his eyes.

Prob'ly the only time he ever _loved_ his Ma were when she were actually carin' fer him. And that was only 'fore Daryl came along. Once he came, shit changed. Once Daryl came, Merle weren't nothin' but _nobody_ in that house.

_He was huddled against the wall, feelin' like somethin' was broken inside a him. And he weren't talkin' bout his bruised ribs. Couldn't help as the image a his Ma's back were the only thing he could see. _

_When he'd heard the ol' man screamin' inside, screamin' fer him, he knew he was lookin' fer him. But he didn't wanna deal with that shit. He'd had enough. But he couldn't help but watch through the window as he looked like a damn dumbass. _

_But his chest clenched when the ol' man stopped before Daryl. And Daryl just looked up at him, chewin' on them rings he'd made fer him a few weeks back. _

_And the only thought that ran through his head was _Not Daryl_. His feet carried him faster than his brain could respond an' he was bursting through door as the ol' man's hand was raised above his head. _

_He tackled him to the floor, the only thing he could think was to keep him away from Daryl. _

_But he weren't strong enough yet. And Ma didn't care bout him no more. Coz she didn't choose him. She didn't _protect _him like she always used to. No, she chose Daryl, and she picked him up an' walked out that door, never lookin' back. _

_All he could see was her back. All he could see were Daryl's face, peering at him over Ma's shoulder. Even as the ol' man's fist rained down on him, he didn't take his eyes off the door.  
_

_Ma didn't _pick_ him. Ma didn't_ want_ him._ _Ma didn't _love _him no more. _

He rubbed at his face, at his eyes, tryin' to rub away the burnin'. It was too much. He couldn't stay in that fuckin' house no more. Too much bad shit, too much pain. Nobody to love nobody, nobody to love _him_.

Daryl had Ma, ol' man had whoever he wanted. Merle had nothin'. Nothin' but the rage and that same simple _want_ he'd had since he were seven.

That was why he couldn't stay.

He couldn't stay there. Couldn't stay there an' suffer the ol' man's pain. Man had too many screws loose in his head. Didn't know how to treat his own kin right. He'd seen other people, seen other _families_. He knew what they had weren't right. Man shoulda taught them how to do things _right_. Shoulda made them better _men_.

And he couldn't _stay_ there. Couldn't become what the ol' man was, couldn't watch Daryl become the same thing. Daryl was already changin', becomin' somethin' he shouldn't a. He was a good kid, smart. Had a lot up in that head a his that should a been put to use. But the ol' man didn't care bout none a that stuff.

He knew he didn't treat his little brother no better than their ol' man did neither. He _knew _that. So he couldn't stay. Ma would be there. She could help him.

They wouldn't miss him anyway. Nobody would. Merle was nobody.

"_Merle," he called from the bedroom doorway, the darkness holdin'em both close. "I didn't mean to see'em Merle, I _swear_." He didn't turn around, didn't want to face him. _

"_Go back to sleep," he grunted, tryin' to keep his voice low. Didn't want to wake nobody. Ol' man was home fer fuckin' once, an' Ma was actually up there wit'im. He didn't need them hearin' him leave. _

"_Merle," he called again, and he heard the floor creak. He looked over his shoulder, watched as Daryl's eyes glowed in the darkness, the blue so much like they Ma's. _

"_I ain't afraid of'em Merle," he said, eyes never faltering from his. He felt his chest tighten, an' his jaw clenched. _

"_Back to bed," he grit out. Daryl watched him._

"_You leavin' Merle?" Somethin' hit him square in the chest. Daryl watchin' him like he knew exactly what was goin' on. The way his hand shook on the handle of the door like he was some goddamn pussy. _

"_If I am?" He was startin' to feel the weight a that gaze. _

"_Don't have to," Daryl said softly. "Please," he whispered, pleaded. And he almost turned right back around an' into the bedroom he shared with his little brother. _

_But he couldn't do it. He couldn't _stay_. Not when that _want _burned hungrily in his chest, through his blood and consumed him. _

"_It ain't all about you little brother." And he walked out the door before his heart changed his mind._

He'd stayed. He'd stayed an' protected Daryl for eight years. He put up with Ma's shit fer eight years, dealt with all a the ol' man's shit. He knew that if spent one more damn day in that house, spent one more minute at the hands a his ol' man, he were gonna do somethin' he were gonna _regret_.

And he _loved_ Daryl. Loved his little brother like he'd never loved nothin' in this whole damn world before. But he couldn't _do it_.

He slammed his hands on the steering wheel, hitting the horn. Slammed his head against the wheel over and over and _over _again.

Sometimes you had to think about yaself fer once. Sometimes, when all you had was you, you had to put yerself _first,_ just once.

"_Don't leave me_."

"Fuck you!" He threw the whiskey out the window and it crashed into another car driving by.

Daryl's voice kept echoing in his head and he couldn't shake it, no matter what he did, or how much he drank, or what he popped.

"_Don't leave me." _

"Fuck you," he whispered, resting his head against the peeling leather of the wheel, as somethin' warm and wet trailed down his cheeks.

He had to go. Daryl wouldn't never understand but he did.

He had to run. Had to run far away, from everything he was leavin' behind, had to run from the one thought that kept consumin' him, from what he _wanted_. If he stayed, he'd take matters into his _own_ hands. So he had to _run_. Even if that meant he was leavin' behind the only person he ever loved.

Coz it was the only way he knew how to save him. Only way he knew how to save'em _both_.

Coz if he went down _that_ path, he knew he'd never be able to find his way back. He'd never be any different from his ol' man.

And he was never gonna be his ol' man. No matter how far he had to run from him.

Even if he had to run from his brother.

* * *

**A/N**: The episode 'Home' showed us so much of Merle. And I really hope I do him right with this one.

I also killed like seven birds with this one stone. _Brazen Hussy_ was reading my mind when she asked for Merle's past abuse, and why he decided to leave instead of stay and take care of Earl. And _TearsOfTheForgotten_ who asked for the same thing. Plus I delved into some of Merle's scars as well. Like I said. Several birds, one stone.

Any of you who still wish to leave a prompt feel free to do so. It would be my pleasure to use it.


	29. Scars

**Nox: **I've been AWOL. Had a wedding, didn't have the motivation to write. But then Nicotero does something like 'This Sorrowful Life' to me, and now I'm pissed, and sad, and just _devastated_. I will never forgive them for taking Merle away from me. _Never_.

This chapter is for _letmefallasleep._ We haven't talked in a while, but she always keeps my Muse motivated, and she really knows how to make me feel like my stories are simply _masterful_. You gave me something to work with, and while I will never truly know that _depth_ - I hope this will suffice.

**Warning: **Intense Graphic Child Abuse and Torture

* * *

Scars

"Ya think ya can protect him?" He didn't move, didn't struggle. Just laid there on the floor, pinned beneath the weight a the ol' man's body. But he couldn't deny that he were nervous. Couldn't deny that some part a him was fuckin' _scared_.

He was never _ready_ fer the ol' man when he got like this.

Was never ready when he pulled the blade out a the wall, where it just sat day in and day out. Waitin', and starin'. Like some goddamn fly on the wall that you knew was there but couldn't git rid of.

The blade was always _there_, just sittin' in the wood, hauntin' them. A constant reminder that at any moment, whenever the ol' man _felt _ like it, he could just do _whatever_ it was he wanted.

But ya didn't know what that was, or when it was gonna be. That was the idea, the _game_.

"Ya think ya gonna always be here?" he whispered as he pushed Merle against the ground, arms pinned to his sides. He felt the tip of the blade push against his back, naked, bare to the ol' man's hands. He bit his lip as the blade pierced his skin, just below his ribcage.

He weren't gonna scream. He weren't gonna show the ol' man any weakness.

"Yous a weak boy. You know that, dontcha?" The blade slid across his skin, opening up flesh an' he couldn't feel nothin' but the sharp, excruciating burning sensation that consumed him from behind.

It'd been a while since the ol' man had pulled his Kabar out, had _used_ it on him. Seemed he was savin' it fer a rainy day.

An' when it rain it fuckin' poured.

He bit down on his lip, felt the skin break and the blood slide down his chin. It hurt but it was better than screamin' out.

"Gonna make ya scream boy!" An' he slammed the blade into the floor next to his face. He jerked back, felt his heart slam against his chest. The ol' man slapped the wound on his back an' he couldn't stop the groan from slippin' passed his lips.

Ol' man laughed. He wanted to kill the bastard an' he fuckin' laughed.

"Like that, dontcha son," he murmured, leanin' down close to his ear. He caressed the blade like it was somethin' he knew, somethin' he _loved_. Was probably the only thing the man ever loved.

He swallowed hard, flexed his arms.

"Don't call me that," he forced between his teeth. He looked into his eyes, the gray like steel. Empty but fer the reflection of his own.

"Call ya whatever I want," he whispered, flexing his fingers around the hilt of the weapon. He pulled it free of the wood, and leaned back. Merle couldn't see him no more, didn't know what was gonna come next. Was always the worst part.

Not knowin'.

He flinched when he felt the steel run softly against his spine, and the ol' man chuckled.

"Ya ain't gonna be able to protect him," he said coldly, pushin' the blade harder against his skin. His lips twitched, and his hands fisted at his sides.

He hated feelin' this. The feelin' of not havin' no control. The feelin' of not knowin' when it was comin'.

"Good-fer-shit Ma a yers won't neither," he murmured darkly, his hot booze breath washin' over his neck. He felt the tip of the blade tap against his back.

"Ya see this," he said softly, "this is where I'll start cuttin' first." An' he did. He pulled the blade across his skin, slow and hard, goin' deeper than he normally did.

An' this time he couldn't stop the low scream that slipped from him.

"I'm gonna make sure ya understand." He drew another line, this time in the opposite direction. The scream grew in his throat as the blade dug deeper. He started to struggle beneath the ol' man an' knew he was just makin' him excited.

"No matter what you do," he crooned, another line in the same direction as the last, just lower. He could feel the warmth as his blood trickled down his side, underneath his pinned arm.

"Fuck you!" He screamed, as tears of pain an' hate slipped through his squeezed lids. The ol' man laughed.

"Both a ya boys," he murmured, the blade making another line, lower again. It was the deepest one yet, an' he didn't know where the pain began or ended.

"Yer _mine_," he whispered into his ear. He felt the blade slide along his cheek, the blood coating his skin. He bucked, trying to git the ol' man off him, trying to make it all go away.

But there weren't nothin' to make this go away.

"We ain't _nobodies_!" he screamed, flailing his body back and forth, even though he knew it didn't matter. The ol' man was still bigger than him, still stronger.

His ol' man gripped him by the hair an' pulled his head back suddenly, bringing his neck up. He felt the blade slide underneath the sensitive skin there an' he froze.

"Daryl's _mine_," he said coldly, his lips brushin' against his ear, the smell a booze invadin' his nose. "An' there ain't nothin' a worthless shit like you can do bout that," he said mockingly with a laugh.

He raised his body momentarily an' he had a fleeting thought to try somethin', _anything_, to take the motherfucker out. But the moment was gone.

He was turned over, facin' his ol' man, an' pinned again.

The look in the ol' man's eyes, made his gut twist. He knew that look, had seen it all his life. When he was facin' the blade, when he was facin' the fists, when he was facin' _anything _the ol' man could git his hands on.

When he wanted to have some _fun_.

That was the look of a man who were _evil_.

He'd faced countless things, an' he'd walked away from every single one. Didn't know how he'd done it, but he weren't lookin' the horse in the mouth. He knew it was a goddamn miracle he'd made it this far. An' now he had a fuckin' _brother_ to look after too.

How fucked up was that shit. Here he was, livin' with a monster, somethin' not _human_, an' the world had to add another kid to the mix.

What fucked up God did that? What God thought it was right to put a kid in this house, to make them suffer at the hands a this _monster_?

Hell, he knew he weren't right in the head neither. Somehow, he'd picked up some a his ol' man's shit. But that didn't mean he _were _the ol' man. Somewhere inside a him was his mama too. He knew that.

"I may be worthless," he said, spittin' the blood into his daddy's face, watchin' with satisfaction at the darkness that grew there. "But leasts they _loves_ me, _without_ the knife," he growled, feelin' like he'd done somethin' to piss his daddy off finally.

An' he were right. But he wished he weren't.

The ol' man's eyes grew so dark they were smoke black. An' he flung the blade to the side an' he didn't even have time to register the fist comin' down on his face. He saw black an' spots as the pain burst in his skull.

But that wasn't it.

He felt his fist hit him again in the jaw, an' another in the shoulder.

An' they just kept comin' til they weren't nothin' left but darkness an' quiet.

* * *

When he woke up, the ol' man was gone. The blade restin' in its usual place in the wall.

But the pain. The pain pulsed from his back, an' his face felt like it was broken. He could just barely open one eye. He rolled onto his side, an' moaned like the wounded animal he knew he was.

He was pitiful.

But he would rather it was him, than Daryl. Rather it was him than the one thing in this world that didn't deserve none a this. The only thing that ever made him feel like he weren't the ol' man.

After some time he sat up slowly, his head spinnin'. His face ached, an' he couldn't move his mouth. He could only hope that Ma kept Daryl away long enough.

He stood up, his legs tremblin', his knees wobbly. He swayed to the side as he took a step, movin' fer the bathroom. He needed to clean up. Needed to see the damage that was done.

He made it to the bathroom, pantin' an' wheezin' an' collapsed to the toilet. He felt along his stomach, the three parallel scars reminding him of the last time he'd made a similar trip to the john like this.

He ran a finger over the bottom scar, the longest one that extended across his stomach and over his hip.

The ol' man had said that one was Daryl's. Said it _was _Daryl.

"_Wanna protect him? Fine! I'll give ya somethin'!"_

He didn't regret it. Not that one.

But now he remembered the newly made marks along his back an' he had to see. He had to know just what it was that marked him forever.

He pulled himself up by the sink, knuckles goin' white as he turned his back to the dirty mirror. Was hard to see through his only open eye, but he wouldn't be able to miss it.

Wouldn't be able to miss the thing that would haunt him forever. The thing that would claim him. He had to believe he'd done it fer Daryl. He had to believe he was protectin' something a worth.

"_Yer mine."_

"No!" He screamed as the tears slipped down his cheeks, and he collapsed to the floor, curling in on himself. But he couldn't get the reflection of the mirror out a his mind, and nothin' could stop the pain, even as he slammed his back against the wall, over and over again.

And that was where his Ma found him. Curled on the floor a their bathroom, bloodied, broken, murmuring Daryl's name over and over again.

And the blood that slowly trickled down his back, from the letter 'E' that was carved there.

* * *

_I hope I didn't scare anyone. But I also hope that you understand. From pain and suffering is born a soul of great strength to do the things that we may never understand. _


	30. Treasured

**Nox**: Okay, so this is as happy as it's going to get _Brazen Hussy_. I swear I don't _purposefully_ write to torture you all (or the boys); it's just what I excel at. It's just what I _know_. Also, some of you gave me prompts and I plan to use them. It may just take me a minute or two to get them in here. Just know, I haven't forgotten you.

_The Walking Dead _belongs to Kirkman and AMC.

* * *

Treasured

Merle'd been gone for a few hours. Usually that meant he wouldn't be back for a few days. Or weeks.

Or _months_.

"Asshole prob'ly ended up in the slammer," he said to himself, to no one. Merle hadn't been to jail yet, not since he'd turned eighteen. He remembered askin' Merle 'bout that once, how it was he never ended up in jail. He'd been to juvie more times than he could _count_ but Merle'd managed to escape the law for a long fuckin' time now.

He could just hear Merle tellin' him his cracked up story.

"_Law can't catch me, baby brother!" Merle laughed, slappin'im on the back. He winced at the sting. _

"_Law can't catch _no_ Dixon, less he want'em too," Merle said, with that fuckin' look in his eye. _

_Daryl thought he knew exactly what Merle was talkin' bout._

Daryl snorted, thinkin' on it now. Merle was prob'ly just fuckin' lucky. Lucky that he didn't have no law men on his fuckin' tail.

Or Merle really did know what the hell he were doin'. Coz Dixons, they weren't fuckin' lucky.

Hell, the ol' man was off on a bender somewhere, with some fuckin' whore, gettin' higher than a kite. Daryl considered himself lucky right then. Lucky he didn't have to deal with the ol' man cracked off. Lucky he hadn't dragged a bimbo home with him. Lucky he was alone, fer once, in the goddamn house.

He liked bein' alone. That's how he liked to spend most days, when he could git away.

He sighed, ran a hand over his short hair.

Just like him to be wishin' Merle were here there though, so that he didn't have to be alone. Merle kept disappearing these days. Kept leavin' him alone with the ol' man.

He'd gotten a fresh set a marks on his back, across his shoulder fer his trouble. The ol' man had enjoyed givin' him those, had enjoyed markin' him.

"_X marks the spot boy!" He was sober. Worst fuckin' part. Man was still sober. He was only on his way to gettin' high. _

_He'd sat on him, dropped his weight full on his back. He couldn't catch his breath. The ol' man was gettin' fuckin' heavy. _

_He pulled the Ka-Bar out a the wall, where it sat dutifully, and he played with it along his skin. Temptin', torturin'. Just playin' around with him. He was about to try and buck the ol' man off when the blade cut into his shoulder, hard, deep, and the scream erupted from his throat. He didn't even know it was comin'. _

_Ol' man laughed. _

He could still hear him laughing now. He'd gotten the first mark a few weeks back, while Merle was off doin' whatever it was Merle did. Man never let it heal right though. Every opportunity he got, he would find something to hit him with, right on the spot. Whether it was with his boot when he was puttin'em on. He'd just walk by and slam the heel across his shoulder.

Or maybe it was the bible that sat on the end table. The fuckin' irony of that didn't miss him.

And then there was the telephone that sat on the wall; broken, useless. He'd pick it up if he was close enough to it and put all of his force into that thing coming down on him.

Its ringing echo would resound in his ears as he bent over, clutching his shoulder, as the blood soaked his shirt. The phone didn't even work but it was still there, hanging on the wall. He knew the ol' man kept it around for things like that.

Took the wound weeks to heal, and by the time it was finally gray, and raised, and _ugly_ the ol' man was ready to put a new one on him. So he did.

And every way he turned the wound pulled an' pinched. It was like the new one he gave opened up the old one. Goddamn _hurt_. And when he looked in the mirror he did have a damn 'X' on his back. Like he was some fuckin' map, and the treasure was right there. Didn't help that all the other older, smaller scars looked like patchwork roads. He was a fuckin' treasure map. But he didn't have no treasure.

He rubbed absently at the round burn mark at the crease in his elbow as the rumbling sound of an engine came rolling down the road.

He looked up in time to see Merle ridin' a bike, a _goddamn bike,_ down the dirt road, rollin' up to the front a the house.

He was lucky the ol' man weren't home.

"Darylina!"

He stood up from the porch and walked over to him, feelin' a spark of jealousy simmer in him. How the _hell_ had Merle managed this?

"The hell is this Merle?" Merle smiled, broad and confident.

"What's it look like brother?" He didn't even bother to put the brake down; just let his feet hold the bike up. He patted the side like it was some goddamn prize he was proud of.

He couldn't really blame him. He was the jealous one.

"How the hell did you git this?" Merle laughed.

"Don't you worry yer pretty lil head, Darylina. Merle's got _friends_," he suggested, eyebrows going up. He snorted. Merle and friends? Fuckin' joke that was. Daryl could only imagine what kind of transaction had gone between Merle and whatever losers he'd gotten with.

"Yep, this right here is a one-of-a-kind beauty. She purrs Merle's name, an' ain't nobody else gonna ride her," he threatened dangerously, eyeing him.

Daryl just shook his head. Just like Merle to find himself a goddamn bike and treat it better than anything else in this fucked up world.

He studied the bike; the long, high handle bars. The extended frame. The…

"What the hell is that?" Merle looked at him confused.

"The hell you talkin' bout?" Daryl pointed to the sticker prominently figured on the side of the body for the whole damn world to see.

"That?" And Merle had the balls to sound fuckin' calm about it. Like he didn't know what the fuck it meant.

"Yeah _that_. You know what the hell that is Merle?" Merle scowled at him, and kicked the leg down, letting the bike rest on its own. He got off and approached Daryl, clapping a hand over his shoulder. He winced at the pain that shot down his back, but he didn't say nothin'. He never did, and never would. Merle would never know bout those.

"Course I do brother," he murmured cockily, squeezin' his shoulder. He winced, but Merle never stopped smilin'.

"Coz those ain't no lightin' bolts, brother." Merle laughed then, and started slappin' Daryl on the shoulder. And with each slap he felt his shoulders cave in, his chest constrict, and his muscles tense. He hoped to fuckin' god that he didn't start bleedin'.

"Hell no they ain't lil brother. That there's the genuine thing." Merle winked at him, and he couldn't believe what he was seein'. Couldn't believe what he was hearin'. How, _why_ in the hell would he want that on the bike?

"Gotta keep all them sumbitches on they toes!" He crowed, admirin' the bike.

"How'd you git it?" Merle was silent for a time, hand runnin' over the handle of the bike.

"Ain't none a ya fuckin' business," he murmured, not lookin' him in the eye. And he knew, when Merle didn't look him in the eyes, it was somethin' he was lyin' about. Or somethin' he was avoidin' talkin' about. Either way, it didn't matter.

He'd gotten the SS insignia somehow, someway, and it had to a been _personal_. Merle didn't do nothin' without it meanin' _somethin'_.

And he knew what it meant. Hell, he hadn't slept his way through school. That was some Nazi shit, and if people saw Merle ridin' around with that on his bike – hell. Even he wouldn't be able to try and convince them his brother was something other than what he sported.

But Merle didn't do nothin' he didn't_ believe _in neither. Even if it was twisted and fucked, and just goddamn _wrong_. That was Merle. His whole life that was Merle.

And who the hell was he to say that Merle couldn't believe in somethin'? Maybe, that insignia meant somethin' different to his brother. Maybe, he should just leave it alone.

Maybe Merle would tell him about it one day.

"Yer lucky the ol' man ain't home to see this shit," he finally said, eyeing the saddlebags.

He went over to them, and lifted the flap while Merle was still temporarily occupied.

He couldn't believe what he was seein'. He felt his jaw drop.

"Git yer fuckin' hands outta there!" Merle barked, shovin' him outta the way. He stumbled to the side, nearly fallin' over, and felt his eyes go wide.

"This here's a man's private place to stash whatever he sees fuckin' fit," he remarked, avoidin' Daryl's gaze, closin' the bag back up, and tying it closed.

"Whatever the hell you say," he said, knowing when he wasn't wanted anymore, and walked away.

"The hell I do say!" he called from behind him. He just waved a hand over his shoulder. He never expected Merle to keep much with him at all times.

Yeah, he expected the nudie mags, and the smokes. The stash of pills, and the beer. Those were all Merle. Wherever he went, it all went with him.

But he _never_ expected to see the one-winged jaybird; worn by the years, darkened by his blood, wrapped in some frayed white cloth to be tucked neatly beneath all of those things.

He remembered when he was tryin' to carve that beauty, by the fire, in the room with the ol' man. He didn't get to finish it; with its wings spread coz the ol' man had interrupted him. He'd broken it, cut his hand, and stained the bird in blood. He thought he'd thrown it out, but…

Something in his chest tightened.

He couldn't believe that Merle had been holdin' onto it all these years. Couldn't believe that his brother had kept somethin' that was broken, and bloodied, and useless.

Like it was _treasured_.

He felt his eyes burn, in a way he'd not experienced before. And he cleared his throat and kept walkin' till he was buried so deep in the woods that no one would hear him, or see him.

And he could let go of the things that he would never let anyone know.

* * *

**A/N**: I hope everyone understands just what I put here. And I haven't said this in a while, but _thank you_ _all_, so much, for the reviews.


	31. Norman

**Nox: **Sorry I've been gone for so long. Got caught up in a myriad of other fics. I would really love you if you checked out my page for them. In His Arms is my newest accomplishment of Caryl epicness!

**Warning**: Intense Images and Tragedy – as _witnesstoitall _appropriately put it '**emotional body armor**' is needed, but I DO NOT provide. Please bring your own!

* * *

Norman

"_Hey Daryl," he called absently, running his hands through Chief's fur. He sat with his back to him, feet dipped into the stream. He stripped off his shirt, and Daryl could just see the lashes across his shoulders and the bruises on his side. _

_He hated seein' that shit on him. Hated knowin' that he wasn't the only one who had to bare that kind a shit. Jed was a good kid. And Daryl knew he saw a lot a himself in Jed. Didn't like to admit that, but he did. _

_He grunted, the only confirmation he was listening and continued to whittle the wood in his hands. It'd been a long time since he'd carved anything. And he missed the feel of the wood in his hands. The waves of the grain, and the un-sanded harshness to it. This one was going to be a dog, and he decided he was gonna give it to Jed._

_So the kid could have one of his own. _

"_What if there was somethin' I hadn't told ya," he said slowly, head dipping to his chest. _

"_What if…" he trailed off and Daryl's hands slowed over the wood. He'd just gotten the head down, and was now workin' on its flank. He didn't have much else to go on but Chief so that was what he was makin'; Chief. _

"_What if I lied?" he asked hesitantly, lookin' over his shoulder and swallowed hard. _

"Merle know about this?" He grabbed the arm hovering above his chest, the needle ready to pierce his sensitive flesh. He hated it when the ol' man marked him up, hated the way the blade would cut into his skin. That pain never left him.

"Course Merle don't fuckin' know bout this!" The man winced, his wrist shaking. But this was one pain he could tolerate; the one pain he would inflict himself if he could. But all he had was Connor.

"Fuck Daryl, ya don't gotta squeeze so fuckin' tight!" Daryl pulled his hand away, jaw clenchin'.

"S'mah magic hand, ya know that," Connor said, rubbing at his bruised wrist. Daryl snorted. Course, he should a been more careful. He did need that hand to do what he wanted.

And Connor was the only one he ever trusted to touch his body, to mark him and make him hurt. Connor was the only man who never fuckin' did anything to him.

"Just do it Connor," he mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

"Ya sure this is what ya want?"

He sat in the chair, shirtless. The one time Connor would kick everyone out of the shop was when he came in. Daryl never took his shirt off in front of anyone, never mind in public. But when ya wanted to do something, ya just had to find the way. And Connor always did that for him.

He nodded his head and looked up at the grimy ceiling as the sound of the buzzing filled his ears, and the needle pierced his skin.

"_Daryl!" He froze; hand in the fridge, hopin' to fuckin' god that Merle didn't call him again. He'd had a long day and all he wanted was a goddamn drink to end his night. _

"_DARYL!" _

"_Shit," he muttered. He stood up, beer in hand, and walked into the living room. He was already prepared to tell Merle to fuck off. Weren't no way he were gonna do whatever the fuck it was he wanted. _

"_The fuck ya want Merle?" He popped the top off the beer and took a pull, lookin' for the couch that he knew Merle had firmly planted his ass into. Motherfucker had spent the day high as a kite while he'd gone to work. He was fuckin' tired, and in no mood for Merle's bullshit. _

"_The hell is that?" He pointed to the backdoor, and Daryl followed is finger. And what he saw nearly dropped the beer from his fingers. _

"_Jed?" He whispered, taking a hesitant step forward. Jed stepped into the house, _limped_ actually, and stopped just beyond the frame. He swallowed nervously, eyes flitting to Merle. And Daryl felt his gut clench. Jed's face was swollen on the left, his eye unable to open. Blood had dried on his lip, and his chin. He cradled his arm against his chest, and he favored his left leg. _

"_The hell is this Daryl?" He felt his skin tremble at Merle's voice now directly behind him. A part of him wanted to say fuck Merle, and pull Jed into the damn house and clean him up. _

_But the bigger part of him knew that Merle was high, an' that if he let Jed stay there was gonna be hell for it; hell that Jed would pay too. _

_And then Chief came bounding out of his room, bayin' like a fuckin' idiot, and dropping his ass at Jed's feet. _

"_Well would ya look at fuckin that," Merle whispered behind him. And he knew he couldn't let Jed stay here. There was so much fuckin' trouble in Merle's voice, and he couldn't do that to Jed. _

_No matter how bad he may a looked. _

"_Git the fuck outta here!" Jed jerked at the tone of his voice, fumbling backwards on his bad leg. His face twisted in fear, and Chief looked back at him too. His chest clenched, and he hated the way that felt. _

"_Go on, git! Hell you doin' comin' in here like this ya little fuckin' turd!" And he ran towards Jed, chasin' him outta the house. Jed fled with a look of horror in his eyes, and when Daryl caught his backside he froze. _

_His shirt had been shredded, blood coating his back. He couldn't see what had been done to him, or the extent of it; but it was enough. _

_It was enough to make him feel like he'd just sent the kid to his death and abandoned him. Like he promised himself he would never do. _

"Fuck!" Connor didn't even look up as he kept scratching the ink across his chest.

"S'my fuckin' nipple dude. Watch where yer puttin' that thing," he barked, nodding to the needle in Connor's hands. Connor just snorted, ignoring him.

The silence that fell between them was comfortable enough that Daryl didn't feel the need to fill it, or be worried about what he was thinking.

"So," Connor started, and Daryl groaned. Just what he didn't want; Connor bein' fuckin' nosy.

"Who is it?" The one thing he liked about Connor was that he never beat around the fuckin' bush. He had somethin' to say, he said it. When he wasn't gonna do something, he didn't. Didn't care what others thought, especially Merle. And that's what Daryl liked best about him.

But then, that applied to him too.

"Nobody," he murmured, eyeing Chief lyin' on the floor at his feet. Ol' boy didn't even look up at him. Just lied there like he'd given up on everything.

"The hell it ain't nobody. Fuck," he muttered, wiping off the excess ink, stopping for a moment to look Daryl in the eyes, "ya ain't a…_fag_ are ya?" Connor at least had the nerve to hide the teasing look on his face, even if his voice didn't.

He should a punched him in the balls. But he didn't have in it him do to anything. Just let out a deep breath as he let his head fall back against the chair.

"Hell no man. Ya know I ain't." Connor nodded, and then started inking him again.

"Then who is he?" He'd been able to tell Connor a lot a things. Sometimes it was unavoidable, 'specially when ya had a patchwork written on yer back. And Connor'd been pretty good about it. Lettin' some things slide off his shoulders, not sayin' nothin' to others. Hell, Connor even got him to laugh about some of the shit.

But as much as he liked Connor this was just somethin' he couldn't tell him.

"_Find'im Chief," he panted, running after the old coon. Chief had his nose to the ground, tail up and crooked as he jogged forward. It was clear that Chief knew what he wanted. _

_The crossbow weighed heavy against his back as he kept runnin'. And the same thoughts kept movin' through his head; shoulda never let him go. _

_He should a let Jed stay, should a put up with Merle's shit, should a never let Jed walk out that door. Now he didn't know where the kid was, or what the fuck was gonna happen to him now. And that was on _him_. _

"_Fuck," he spat, feeling like he couldn't breathe suddenly. _

Awoo

_Chief's baying sent him crashing after the coon, through the trees, tumbling over branches and roots, and goddammit if he didn't have his legs on him today. _

_The darkness had started to settle in around him and he couldn't see fuckin' shit, but he kept runnin'. Chief kept bayin' and he kept followin' his coon. _

_Chief didn't stop bayin' until he'd landed them right in the middle of a yard; some fucked up, twisted version of his own. He could see tools that had long been left discarded, and two garbage cans sittin' on the side of the house; one tipped over spilling trash all over. The push mower left in the middle of a yard not cut in a few weeks._

_But what he couldn't miss was whip hanging up near the back of the door. _

_Fear gripped him, locked him up. He knew what that meant, what kind of sign it was. How many times had he stared at his ol' man's Ka-Bar sitting in the wall, just waiting for the moment when he wanted to use it. It was there to _hurt _ya, without even touchin' ya. Strike fear in yer head when he wasn't even home. _

_He should a never a let Jed go. _

"_Fuck," he ground out between his teeth, taking hesitant steps toward the house. This was something he'd never expected to do. He'd never been to Jed's house before, and he sure as hell had never met the man who had hurt the kid. _

_But he was findin' out why that had been a good thing; fear was relative. Didn't matter who was doin' it, or how it was bein' done. When all it took was one person to show you how fuckin' cruel the world could be, ya never forgot it. Ya never forgot the ways it was done, or the signals they gave off. Ya never forgot any of it. _

_An' men like his ol' man were everywhere. Just had to find'em. _

_Coz right here, not more than two miles from his own goddamn house was another asshole who got his kicks outta makin' their kid _hurt_. _

"_Chief," he whispered loudly, as the old coon barreled his way through the backdoor without so much as a care. _

"_Shit." And he had to go after him. Coz he sure as fuck weren't leavin' Chief to go in there alone, and he was here now. He weren't leavin' Jed again. _

"Well it's fuckin' done," Connor announced, wiping off the last of the black ink and blood. His chest hurt like a bitch. "Course, now ya got some fag-" And this time Daryl did punch him, in the shoulder.

"Fuckin' shut it Connor," he growled. Weren't no fag name, weren't nothin' wrong about it.

"Alright, alright," he said defensively, chuckling a little and holding up his hands. "But that's all it's gonna be if ya don't tell me." Daryl chewed his lip nervously. He'd never wanted to tell Connor, never wanted to tell _no one. _

He fuckin' failed himself, failed _him_.

He ran a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath. He could feel his eyes burnin', and to hell if he was gonna cry. Not now, not like this. Dixon's didn't cry. Connor, the observant little shit, noticed.

"Who's 'Norman' Daryl?" he asked quietly.

_The house smelled like shit warmed over. Fuckin' sick. He gagged once before he choked it back down. It was dark in the house and he couldn't see nothin'. He felt along the wall, searchin' for a light switch maybe. _

_But he didn't need it as he heard Chief's low moan echo throughout the house. He darted for the sound, crashing into furniture and the walls. _

_He could see one small light in the house that seemed to give a glow to everything around him. And then he knew where Chief was._

_When he turned the corner into the living area he felt the crossbow slip between his fingers and crash to the floor. _

"_Jed?" he whispered, unable to process what he was seeing. _

_Chief was lying next to Jed, licking the boy's face and whimpering. And Jed, god_dammmit_ Jed was lying there and his chest wasn't movin. Daryl darted for him and fell to his knees on the opposite side of him. _

_He didn't know what to do. _

"_Jed," he said louder, touchin' the boy softly. And when he got nothin' he knew he had done it all wrong. He knew he had failed him in every way possible. He knew he had _killed _him. _

"_Daryl?" he whispered hoarsely, barely able open to his one good eye. Chief whimpered again, and Jed chuckled a little, before he burst into a fit of coughs. He reached up to rub at Chief's neck. _

"_I'm sorry boy," he whispered softly, turning his face to Chief, and the tears sliding down his cheeks. Daryl couldn't find the right way to breathe. _

_He looked Jed up and down and felt his chest constrict. He was broken. _

_His leg was twisted at angle that Daryl knew was broken. Someone had either done that to him, or he'd fallen and caused it. But it was his chest that made Daryl start to hyperventilate. His shirt had ridden up to reveal the bruises, and the puncture of his rib through his skin, and the burns and the old scars. _

_And his neck carried the print of a man's hand where someone had tried to choke him. His face was still bruised, and swollen, and he could tell that his jaw was either that badly hurt, or it too was broken. _

_But it was the pool of blood beneath his head that scared the shit out of him. He had never seen that much blood from a head wound. Except for when Merle had beaten once, and he'd come out of that. _

_But Merle had been older, and Jed was just a kid. This – this was _not possible_._

"_Jed," he said, choking on the word. He pushed back the kid's hair from his forehead, searching that green eye a his. _

"_Pa got pissed," he gurgled out, blood streaming down his chin now. Daryl felt frantic now, like he needed to do fuckin' _somethin'_. _

"_I gotta do somethin' Jed, gotta call somebody. The cops, Merle," he drifted off. He glanced down Jed's body and went to pick him up. He'd _carry _that kid wherever he needed to go. He couldn't just sit there and let him fuckin' _die_. _

_But the moment he got the kid in his arms he started groanin' and a scream ripped passed his lips. Daryl didn't get further than the front yard before he was dropping to his knees, letting Jed rest against him. _

_He couldn't go anywhere, couldn't do nothin'. _

"_Fuck!" he screamed. _

"_Don't worry," Jed said, gasping. "Ain't nothin' new." He reached up, holding out something in his hand. Daryl took it from him, and couldn't stop it any longer. He let the tears slide down his cheeks as he held the wooden dog firmly in his hand, stained by Jed's blood. _

_Jed laughed softly. "Thought Dixons didn't cry," he murmured, mock punching him with barely any strength in his arm. "Ya ain't a pussy are ya?" _

_Daryl doubled over Jed's body, feeling the pain grip him hard. "Ain't worth…cryin' fer," he whispered, as his breath came shorter now. _

"_Glad I met ya." Daryl gripped him tighter, feeling lost again. Feeling as lost as he had when his Ma died and Merle wasn't there. Feeling as lost as he had when the darkness consumed him. _

"_Like mah…brother," he breathed out as his body deflated in Daryl's arms. _

"_Jed?" Daryl whispered, shaking him slightly. The dog fell to the ground with Jed's hand. "Jed?" he said louder, shaking harder. _

_But Jed never moved, didn't say anything, didn't breathe again. _

"_JED!" And Chief howled to the night sky, as Daryl's screams filtered through the darkness. _

"I couldn't save him Connor," he mumbled into his hands, feeling the warmth run down his cheeks again. He'd fuckin' _failed_.

"Who Daryl?" Connor pried, ignoring the way he'd practically sobbed. "Who didn't you save?"

Daryl stood up, sending the chair crashing to the floor. Chief still didn't move.

"Jed!" he screamed, clutching at his hair, feeling the pain consume him.

He didn't save Jed. He was supposed to have saved Jed. He was supposed to be to Jed what Merle was to him. The one person that never let ya die.

What if Merle had never been there? What if Merle had never been born?

He'd a been just like Jed.

"Couldn't save him," he muttered, sliding to the floor against the wall. He looked down at the name tattooed across his chest, feeling the weight of it bare down on him.

It would be a reminder – a reminder of the thing he'd never been able to save. Of the one thing he'd done fuckin' _wrong _in this world. Of the one thing he should a been able to do right but _couldn't_.

"I couldn't save him," he cried out, burying his face in his hands, as the tears fell down his cheeks and onto his chest, across the name 'Norman'.

"_Guess it don't matter much," he said, whittling once again, "unless it's gotta do with me." He didn't like lyin' and he knew he was conveying that through his voice. People lied and they had somethin' to hide. But what'd they need to hide? _

"_I…" Jed rested his head against Chief's neck. "I lied about me." _

_Daryl stopped whittling, and looked up. Kid was staring at him hard, biting his bottom lip. _

"_What bout?" Chief licked Jed's face as he hugged the dog tightly. _

"_My name," he murmured against Chief's fur. Daryl's brows drew down, confused. What the fuck did the kid need to lie about his name for?_

"_The hell is it then?" _

"_Promise not to laugh," he asked seriously, pulling his feet out of the stream and coming to sit down next to Daryl. Daryl leaned away, an automatic response that he'd never gotten over, even around Jed. The kid seemed to have gotten used to it. _

"_Promise," he said more forcefully. Daryl just sighed and nodded. _

"_It's Norman," he whispered, head dipping to his chest, cheeks flushing red. Daryl couldn't help the short laugh that escaped him, and Jed's piercing gaze shot up at him. _

"_You promised!" he berated, shoving his shoulder. Daryl couldn't stop from laughing again at the absurdity of it. It was just a fuckin' name. Kid was bein' ridiculous. _

"_It's just a fuckin' name kid," he said between his laughter, trying to catch his breath. Jed cast his eyes down, fiddling with his hands in his lap. _

"_Pa never calls me Norman," he murmured. Daryl let his laughter die, and the silence sit between them. He didn't know what to say to that. Their ol' man's; it was like they were both in the world to treat'em like shit. _

"_Just a name Jed," he said finally. Jed looked up, a little bit of hope in his green eyes. _

"_Really? Coz I don't let nobody call me Norman less I like'em. And if ya wanted…" he trailed off, avoiding Daryl's gaze. This kid; he didn't know what the hell he was gonna do with him. _

"_Norman Jedediah huh," Daryl said reaching up to ruffle Jed's hair, drawing a surprised look from him. "Honorary Dixon." Jed's eyes went wide, his hand reaching out for Daryl, but stopping just before he touched him.  
_

_Daryl didn't respond to the gesture, but he didn't ignore it either. He gave the kid a look, quirking an eyebrow. _

"_Think I'll just stick ta Jed, since that's what I know ya as," he picked up his wooden dog and knife, starting to carve again. _

"_But I like Norman too." And Jed couldn't stop smiling the entire time they sat there in comfortable silence, until Daryl had finished the wooden carving of Chief and gave it to him._

* * *

**A/N**: I told you I had a purpose for Jed, and well, I hope I didn't hurt ya'll in the process. This chapter ended up being really hard to write, and I never thought it would be. Jed really tugged at my heart, begged me really not to do this. But ya know, the Muse is rather harsh.

Thanks for coming back you guys. If I didn't respond to your reviews, I'm really sorry. I get so caught up in life, and my other fics (that always have pending reviews as well) that I kind of forget. But you must always know – I cherish each and every one that you all leave. Truly.


	32. Blackbird

**Nox: **This is for _Jack and Honey_. You really had me work for this one. Cherokee business is quite difficult and with that being said the Cherokee stuff is just _pitiful_. I had to Google the _shit _out of that stuff – and we all know how _reliable _Google is. I really hope you guys cut me some slack on that end. Please, if I offend anyone who knows/is Cherokee, I am _so sorry_. I know nothing about it, and this is purely for entertainment.

_The Walking Dead _belongs to Kirkman and AMC.

* * *

Blackbird

"Ma," Daryl said quietly, sitting between her legs and playing with the block of wood that he'd given him yesterday. He picked up a white flower in his other hand, and held up it to the sunlight. "Tell me the story again."

Ma reached forward and took the flower out of his hand, twisting it between her fingers. She smiled softly, as Daryl reached up with his hands, letting the petals brush against his palms as she continued to twirl it.

Daryl laughed.

Merle felt his stomach clench as he picked up the carving he'd started a few days ago and kept his hands movin'. If he didn't then he'd keep fuckin' dwellin' on the fact that nobody wanted him round. That he had to follow his Ma and Daryl into the middle a the woods without so much as a _whisper_ coz if his Ma knew he were out here she'd freeze up an' bolt. She'd make some fuckin' excuse to leave. She'd avoid lookin' at him and walk away without so much as a fuckin' _word._ He had to sit where they couldn't see and _pretend _like he was a fuckin' part a it.

"Fuckin' loser," he spat at himself as he buried the pain in his chest deep down.

He had to sit here and _watch_ as his Ma looked fuckin' _happy_ with Daryl. He had to watch that shit. Most days she left the fuckin' house it were for Daryl, or to escape the ol' man. And when she was escapin' the ol' man she was gettin' drunk or too pissed.

None of those times did she _ever _want him round.

"The Cherokee Rose," Ma began, and this time he set the carving down. He'd never heard his Ma talk about this 'fore. But Daryl had heard it already?

"A long time ago, the American soldiers forced a lot of people to move from their homes." Hell, a lot a people were forced from their homes every day for a lot a fuckin' reasons. The fuck his Ma think; these people she were talkin' bout were _special_?

"These people, the _Cherokee_, didn't want to go. Shouldn't a had too, but they didn't have no choice." He glanced over to see his Ma's face change; the infectious laughter that Daryl had shared was now gone and in its place was a sadness he'd never seen on her before. Not even when the ol' man was beatin' on _him_. Daryl pulled at her shirt, standing up on his knees.

"But _why_?" he asked, like he'd asked it time and time before. Ma just shook her head sadly as she handed the flower back to Daryl, and Merle knew. Men made choices that ya just couldn't put any fuckin' reason too. Sometimes, they just thought they had the fuckin' right to it. And hell, maybe they _did _have their fuckin' reasons.

Who was he to care?

"Because sometimes baby, people think they just can. What matters is that the Cherokee weren't used to the conditions, and many children were lost along the way; from exposure and disease and starvation." Daryl looked up confused, brows turned down.

"What's that again?" Ma smiled sadly.

"Babies died from the cold, and gettin' sick and not eatin' enough," she explained softly, lookin' up as her voice trailed off. Merle didn't know nothin' bout these Cherokee, but he knew enough bout his Ma to know that this wasn't just a _story_. This meant more to Ma than he'd ever thought.

"Mama?" She turned back to Daryl, brushing her fingers over the petals on the rose.

"Some of the children just disappeared," she continued softly, her voice just a whisper now. Merle couldn't deny that even now, he was leanin' closer to hear, her voice so soft. "So the elders, the old people, said a prayer," she placed her hands together and Daryl hurried to do the same, watching her closely. "The elders asked for a sign, something to help make the mama's feel better, and lift up their spirits. Give them strength, and hope." Daryl looked down at the flower, studied it closely.

"Merle makes me feel better," he said, his voice small. Merle swallowed hard. He'd never felt his chest get that funny feelin' before. Not _never. _And he'd sure as hell never heard Daryl say nothin' like that before.

But Ma didn't do nothin' but smile at Daryl.

"And so, _this _rose started to grow," she said touching the white rose, ignoring Daryl, "right where the mama's tears were fallin'." She watched Daryl closely and he didn't know what she was expectin'. Daryl were just a kid, and how the hell was he supposed to understand that shit.

"They call it _The Trail of Tears_; for the mama's and the flowers that bloomed for their babies. So now, whenever you see one of these roses bloomin', it means a mama was cryin' fer her lost baby."

He could see what this all was about; some fuckin' story bout hope and strength and gettin' it from a fuckin' weed. Just like his Ma to believe some damn story.

"Is this _yer_ hope mama?" Daryl asked, holding the flower out to her. And there was it was, surprisin' him; where he felt like he'd done wrong in thinkin' that it was just a weed, and it was all just some fuckin' story. Coz maybe Daryl really did fuckin' understand. Maybe their Ma really wasn't tellin' no story. Maybe she was tellin' them somethin' _important_.

And then Ma started to cry, the tears fallin' down her cheeks.

"Oh _auatseli adanvto_," she murmured, pullin' Daryl against her chest. His hands fisted at his sides, his nails digging painfully into his palms.

He watched as Daryl went rigid in her arms, and he couldn't blame his lil brother. Ma hardly ever touched Daryl like that either. He couldn't deny he were fuckin' jealous.

He wanted to run so fuckin' far away. When was the last time his Ma had ever held him? When was the last time she had ever looked at him with that kind look on her face?

"Do you _love_ me mama?" He heard her laugh softly as he dropped his head back against the tree behind him, closing his eyes, letting the piece of wood fall to the ground.

He had to go. He couldn't sit here and watch this no longer. He couldn't sit here and _punish _hisself no more.

Nobody was gonna love him.

"Course I do _tla-i-ga_," she murmured gently. Merle's eyes snapped wide open. He couldn't believe it. He didn't think he'd ever hear that again. He could remember the one and _only _time he'd heard his Ma say it.

_Ma was playin' with Daryl in the backyard. She was _always _with Daryl now. He should probably be grateful fer it. Didn't need the ol' man takin' notice of Daryl yet. He knew it'd come. Just didn't want it happening yet. _

_It was gonna hurt _worse _when he went after Daryl. _

_He walked out the back door in his socks, quiet, so neither of'em saw him. _

"_He'll take care a ya Daryl," she whispered softly to his baby brother. She helped him stand on his two legs, his face breakin' out in a grin. Ma laughed, the sound like the howlin' of a wolf in the night – lonely, sad, and beautiful. He could remember the one time he'd heard a wolf, howlin' in the dead a night. It was the saddest shit he'd ever heard, but it was also the only thing that had ever made him feel like it understood. It was alone, and it was cryin'. _

_Daryl gurgled, his fingers grasping for Ma. She pulled him against her chest, holdin' him tight. _

_He'd never wanted more than in that moment to walk up to his Ma an' have her know that _he _wanted to be held too. Just one more time. Before he got too old fer that shit. _

_Maybe it could help him hold on. _

"Tla-i-ga_," she murmured, caressing his head, talking in a language he didn't understand. She looked up suddenly and he froze. But her eyes were closed as she fell onto her back, pulling Daryl with her. He giggled in her arms, clutching at her shirt, burying himself against her chest. _

"_Wherever you go baby," she murmured, her eyes still closed, "he'll always protect you." _

_Merle couldn't help but stand there and watch her; brown hair splayed out across the grass, Daryl lying across her chest. Daryl finally looked up and spotted him; face breaking out into another grin, eyes gettin' big. _

"_Merrr." He took a step back, hopin' Ma wouldn't open her eyes, ready to bolt if she did. _

"_That's right love," she whispered, curling onto her side, holding him tighter. "Merle." Merle took another step back, and another. He had to get away, had to leave 'fore his Ma saw him and regretted everythin' she just said. _

"_My boys," she murmured, "heart of my heart," she whispered. But it wasn't soft enough to escape him. He wanted to know what it meant but he couldn't let Ma know that he was here, that he'd heard. He couldn't let Ma know that he'd seen her like this. _

_And he ran before she had the chance to know he was ever there. _

"What's…what's _dala-yyh-ga_?" Daryl asked, brows furrowing. Merle looked back, that need to run not so insistent anymore. Ma started laughing again, pushing the hair out of Daryl's face. Merle swallowed hard, pulling his knees up to his chest. He didn't want to watch Ma with Daryl but he couldn't _not_.

How many times had he wanted her to hold _him _like that? How many times had he wanted to make her laugh?

"_Tla-i-ga_," she said softly, her voice sweet as she reached over to pluck the flower from his hands. "It means _blue jay_." Daryl watched her intently; eyes wide and Merle couldn't help but lean forward.

"Is it a name?" Daryl asked, his voice soft with wonder. Ma just nodded. "Do you got one?" She nodded again but with less enthusiasm.

"_Tsa-quo'-la-de_. Bluebird." He watched as Daryl tried the word out in his mouth and failed.

"It's what we…" she twisted the white rose in her fingers, her voice suddenly fading. He watched as she pushed Daryl's flop of hair behind his ear, pulling him in close for another hug. And Daryl wouldn't know it, but she looked down and a single tear slipped down her cheek.

He'd never wanted to go to his Ma and do somethin' for her more than he did in that moment. But he never knew what the fuck to do bout cryin' and he knew she sure as hell wouldn't let him come near her.

"What bout Merle?" He leaned forward in anticipation, but Ma just looked away, her face filled with regret. Daryl reached out and touched her shoulder.

"Do you love _Merle_?" He felt his throat close up, and he didn't breathe. Ma went still as Daryl waited, Merle the same on bated breath.

And she didn't say a fuckin' thing.

"You _do _don't ya?" He could see from here Ma swallow, her throat movin' with the effort. She smiled hesitantly and Merle felt something in his chest crumble. Ma didn't love him. Ma _never _loved him.

"Cos I love Merle too," Daryl started as he picked up the block of wood that lay between his knees. "Merle's always teachin' me stuff," Daryl said thoughtfully, and Merle felt his heart slow. "Merle always makes sure I got food. Been teachin' me how to carve wood. Makes sure daddy don't…" Daryl's voice trailed off and Merle watched as Daryl leaned into Ma, burying his face into her chest.

He felt his chest tighten, his throat close up tight. Their ol' man was _always _tryin' to touch on Daryl; with the Ka-Bar, with his fists, with his _hands_. There weren't much he knew how to do, but there was one thing he'd fuckin' do right however he could; an' that was keepin' the ol' man _away_ from Daryl.

He watched as Ma's hands cupped Daryl's cheeks, feelin' somethin' stir in him that he'd never felt before.

"Merle loves _you_. He'd do _anything_ for you." Ma had never touched him like that, least not that he could remember. Now, he'd be fuckin' lucky if she looked at him without that fuckin' guilt in her eyes or the shame on her face.

"Stupid bitch," he muttered. As much as he wanted her to feel guilty for all the shit she'd let happen to him since Daryl had come round, he just wished she'd fuckin' get over it an' treat him like she _used _too. Or at least, like he thought she used too.

Fuckin' thing was that Ma was right though. He'd do _anything _fer Daryl. He _had _done things fer Daryl. Things he didn't never want to remember. Daryl were just a kid, not more than five years. And to make a kid that young _suffer _the torture, and the _humiliation_ of…of…

"Fuckin' sonuvabitch," he growled, turning away from them, not wantin' to watch no longer. He picked up his carving, wondering if he should even bother to finish. He looked down and saw that it didn't matter. He'd crushed it. _Ruined _it.

"Fuckin' worthless." That's what he was always bein' told _he_ was. _Worthless_.

"Go on now," Ma said from behind him. "Let's go, 'fore ya Pa sees we're gone too long." He tossed the wood away, and slipped his switchblade back into his pocket as he stood up to go.

He should a never a come out here. All he'd done was confirm that his Ma had never loved him. And it just made everything hurt inside.

He started to walk away, slipping his hands into his pockets. He wouldn't go back home just yet. He'd slip out to the river, go for a swim, have a smoke. Maybe drink the six-pack he'd managed to smuggle out a the house.

"We _are _the Cherokee." He stopped in his tracks, and turned a little, lookin' over his shoulder.

Ma stood there, lookin' up through the trees, the sun shinin' on her face. Daryl weren't nowhere in sight, so she _had _to be talkin' to him. Right?

She looked at him then. "It runs through yer veins. The blood a my people," she whispered, takin' a step toward him. He felt himself step backward in response. He'd never meant for Ma to see him, never meant to get caught, never meant to let this _happen_.

He didn't want Ma to know how much he wanted her to just _see _him.

"It may not be much," she continued, still walking forward, getting closer, "my mother may have married a white man, but it's _there_." He couldn't move. Even if he'd wanted to run to the fuckin' edge a the world, he couldn't do it. "_Auatseli adanvto_," she said with a quiet ferocity in her voice.

She was standin' in front a him then, so small and weak. The bruises on her left cheek dark and swollen. She chewed her bottom lip, playing at the split his ol' man had given her just yesterday.

But her eyes, the hazel piercin' him deep, made him tremble. He couldn't remember the last time Ma had ever looked at him like that. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen them.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. She reached out to _what_; touch him, comfort him, do what she hadn't done in fuckin' _years_?

He backed away before she could, feelin' the anger and the hatred, and the _emptiness _of all the years that she'd abandoned him swallow him up. And her face crumbled before him.

And he turned his back on her, walkin' away.

But he wanted to know.

"What's mine?" he called, not botherin' to look back at her. There was silence for a moment, and he didn't think she would answer. But then her voice echoed out in the stillness around him, shattering the last bit of hope that he might have been holding onto.

"_Tsi-s-qua-li-s-da_," she murmured, her voice broken and haunting. He knew then that he didn't want to know what it meant. Knew that it would kill him inside.

But he was always the best at punishin' himself, inflictin' that pain on his own heart. So he waited, waited for her to tell him what it meant.

"Blackbird," she whispered.

He looked up through the trees, as the wind brushed across his face. Blackbird. _Black_. He'd always be different. Never included. Daryl and Ma, they had their blue fuckin' birds. They'd be _beautiful_. People would look at them, and _know _they was somethin'. But him?

"Merle," Ma called gently, and he heard her footsteps move behind him.

And he took off runnin'. Away from Ma, away from the silence that sat heavy between them, away from the pain that ate at his chest. Away from it all.

Ran as if those black wings were carryin' him.

* * *

**A/N**: So I really tried with this one – to incorporate the Cherokee side of Mama. To make it work she's abandoned that part of her because of her life with Earl. But she still remembers some things. Also, its rare, but not _impossible_ for there to be wolves in Georgia.

_auatseli adanvto_ - My heart

As for the _pronunciation _of these things - it is way too much for me to explain all of this to you. It is a _mouthful_.


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